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JUST TO GET MARRIED 



J JUST 
TO GET MARRIED 

A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 



CICELY HAMILTON 



Copyright, 1914, by Samuel Frexch, Limited 



New York 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

Publisher 

28-30 WEST 38TH STREET 



\y LONDOX 

SAMUEL FRENCH, LTD / 
26 Southampton Street 
STRAND 






Bi> the same Author, 

JACK AND JILL AND A FRIEND. 6d, 

A Comedy in One Act. 



Samuel French, Limited. 



MAY I5I8I4 



CI.D 37041 ^ 



(N- 



JUST TO GET MARRIED 



A Comedy in Three Acts, produced at the Little Theatre, 
London, on November 8, 1910, with the following cast : — • 

Sir Theodore Grayle .... Thomas Sidney. 

Lady Catherine Grayle (His wife) Rosina Filippi. 

Tod Grayle (His son) .... Everavd Vanderlip, 

Bertha Grayle (His daughter) . . Dorothy Minto. 

Georgiana Vicary (Lady Catherine's Gertrude Kingston. 
niece) 

Adam Lankester . . . . • Godfrey Tearle. 

Mrs. Macartney Maud Cressall. 

Frances Melliship Dora Barton. 

A Footman A. C. Fotheringham 

Lysens. 
Dobbins (A railway porter) ... Arthur Favne. 



SCENES 

The First Act. The drawing-room at Sir Theodore Grayle' 
Country House. 

The Second Act. The Library. 

The Third Act. The General Waiting-room at Puckridge 
Railway Station. 



The Fee for the representation of this play by Ama^ 
teurs is Three Guineas, payable in advance to : — 

Messrs. vSamuel French, Ltd. 

26, Southampton Street, 

Strand, London, 

or their authorized agents, who will issue a written 
permission /or the performance to take place. No 
representation may be given unless this written authority 
has first been obtained. 

All costumes ajid wigs required for the performance of 
plays contained in French's Acting Edition may be 
hired or purchased reasonably from Messrs. Charles 
H. Fox, Ltd., 27, Wellington Street, Strand, London. 



JUST TO GET MARRIED 

ACT I 

Scene. — DraKung-room at Sir Theodore Grayle's'- 
country house. , 

A plan oj the scene is given at the end of the play. 

Time. — It is ajtev dinner. ? 

(As the curtain rises Frances Melliship is sitting'' 
turning over an illustrated paper. Mrs. Macartney 

is at the piano — she rattles off the closing bars of a ' 
noisy tune, finishing tenth a bang.) 

Frances. Thank you, Mrs. Macartney. (Sitting 
on the sofa r.) 

Mrs Macartney. Very eharming of you to 
thank me. My performance seems to have driven 
everybody else out of the room. What has become 
of them ? 

Frances. Lady Catherine has gone to the hbrary 
tb write letters — and Georgiana wandered off into 
the conservatory a few minutes ago. 

Mrs. Macartney. With Mr. Lankester ? 

Frances. Oh, no. He is still in the dining-room. 

Mrs. Macartney. I wonder — does she ever 
talk to you, Miss Melliship ? 

Frances. Talk to me ? 

Mrs. Macartney. I mean about Mr. Lankester ? 

Frances. No. 

Mrs. Macartney. I thought perhaps as you were 
7 



8 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

such old friends— you were at school together, 
weren't you ? 

Frances. Oh. yes, we were — but voii probably 
see a great deal more of her now than I do. When 
she's in London she looks me up at my studio now 
and again, but until last Saturday I hadn't seen her 
for nearly three months — and she had never even 
mentioned Mr. Lankester to me. 

Mrs. Macartney. I see. 

Frances. How long has she known him ? 

Mrs. Macartney. Only quite a short time. 
{She rises mid leans on chair by table.) She met him 
first when he was staying with the Collingbournes a 
few weeks ago. 

Frances. Is that all ? 

Mrs. Macartney. That's all. I suppose Lady 
-Catherine noticed that he seemed attentive, for she 
l^romptJy invited him here — and here he has been 
for the last fortnight. Honestly, what do you think 
of him ? (Crosses to sofa.) 

Frances. I really don't know — he's so quiet. I 
can hardly ever get anything out of him. 

Mrs. Macartney. Nobody can — except Georgie. 
I suppose he must talk to her when they're alone — • 
otherwise he's too painfully shy to open his mouth. 
I feel quite sorry for him, poor thing — his ten years 
in the back-blocks of Canada — whatever they may 
be — seem to have deprived him of the power of speech, 
iat any rate as far as women are concerned. 

Frances. He's very good looking. 

Mrs. Macartney. Good-looking, ves — but oh, 
how dull ! However, that's Georgie's affair, not 
mine ; and when once they are married she can 
take him in hand, polish him up and teach him not 
to be afraid of the sound of his own voice. 

Frances. You think she docs mean to marry 
him ? 

Mrs. Macartney. It seems to me that the ques- 
tion is — does he mean to many her ? I can see Lady 



JUST TO GET MARRIED. 9 

Catherine's getting a little restive, not to say worried. 
He's going away early to-morrow morning — and he 
and Georgie aren't engaged yet. 

Frances. I should have thought there was no 
doubt 

Mrs. Macartney. Oh. so should 1 — in fact, every 
one thought so ; but all the same he is going away 
to-morrow morning, and so far, we haven't been 
asked for our congratulations. I shall be awfully 
sorry for poor old Georgie if it doesn't come off — • 
awfully sorry. 

Frances. She cares for him then ? 

Mrs. Macartney (icitk an amused shrug). Oh, 
Georgie's a woman who ought to marry — and what's 
more, she is dying to marry, as any woman in her place 
should. Oh, I know you don't agree with that remark 
— but you're an artist with a vocation 

Frances. I wish I felt sure of that. 

Mrs. Macartney. Anyhow, you're exceptional. 
Georgie isn't. And she does badly want to get 
married — badh'. I should be very sorry for myself 
if I had to sit opposite to Mr. Adam Lankester at 
breakfast for the term of my natural hfe, but he may 
improve on acquaintance. And he's got enough 
to keep her — nearly three thousand a year, I believe. 

Frances. Three thousand a vear — what wealth ! 

Mrs. Macartney. He came into it unexpectedly 
a few months ago — that was what brought him back 
to England. And Georgie literally hasn't a penny, 
you know ; her father ran through everything and 
she has been absolutely dependent on the Grayles 
since she was a child. 

Frances. Poor Georgie. 

Mrs. Macartney. Not a nice position, of course. 
I should be very glad to see her settled, and so would 
Lady Catherine — with two expensive sons and a 
daughter to provide for there won't be much over for 
Georgie — the Grayles are fearfully hard up you 
know. I do hope, for all their sakes, that Mr. Lan- 



10 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

kester is serious ; it will be so uncomfortable for poor 
Georgie if he isn't. 

Frances [ironically). Only uncomfortable ? 

Mrs. Macartney. Well, what I mean is that 
she has been encouraging him rather openly — every 
one round here has noticed it and is expecting the 
engagement to be announced. It will be rather 
dreadful for her if 

[With sudden change of tone, as Georgiana A^icary 
enters door r. above sofa.) 

Let me see, it's to-morrow the Chesneys are coming 
to lunch, isn't it ? 

Frances. The Chesneys ? 

Georgiana (behind sofa). Not quite a success, 
Julia. 

Mrs. Macartney (astonished). What ? 

Georgiana. That sudden turn to the conversa- 
tion. Frankie's face showed her amazement when 
the Chesneys were sprung upon her without the 
slightest warning. 

Mrs. Macartney (embarrassed.) What do you 
mean, Georgie ? 

Georgiana (comes round and sits on sofa between 
ihem.). Don't apologize. There was no need ta 
drag in the Chesneys. Why shouldn't you talk 
about me as much as you like ? Well, (looking from 
one to the other), what conclusion did you arrive at ? 

Frances. What conclusion ? 

Georgiana. Yes, Fm dying to know. Please be 
quite candid and tell me what, in your opinion, is the 
state of Mr. Lankester's affections. Is he going ta 
ask me to become Mrs. Lankester — or is he not ? 

Mrs. Macartney (laughing awkwardly). My dear 
Georgie 

Georgiana. My dear Julia, that was what you 
were discussing a moment ago. 

Mrs. Macartney. Wliat an idea ! I assure you^ 
I never 



JUST TO GET MARRIED. il. 

GEOiiGiAXA. Don't burden your soul with un- 
necessary lies, Julia. They a;-e lier,, aren't they, 
Frankie ? 

Mrs. Macartney. Georgie, it was most abomin- 
ably mean of you to listen 

Georgiana. I didn't listen ; I guessed — right.. 
Now, do tell me — I should be so glad to know what 
you think. I'm entirely in the dark myself. 

Mrs. Macartney. Georgie, how perfectly ridi- 
culous you are. 

Georgiana. I'm quite a.ware of that. I'm 
intensely ridiculous and I know it. But then the situ- 
ation is ridiculous — painfully so. 

Frances. What situation ? What do you mean ? 

Georgiana. What situation— mv dear good girl ! 
Here am I waiting, day after day, to be proposed to 
and the man won't propose. Isn't that enough to 
make any w^oman feel a fool ? 

Mrs. Macartney. Really^— 

Georgiana (coolly). Yes, really, Julia. Don't 
pretend that you haven't sun^med up the situation 
— and discussed it with everybody in the house, ex- 
cept myself and Mr. Lankester. I've summed up the 
situation, too — summed it up to a T — arid I don't see 
why I shouldn't also discuss it with you if I want to. 
[She rises and goes to fire, looking into it.) You needn't 
think that I don't know just as well as you do that the 
plain English of the whole business is that for the last 
fortnight I've been making myself rather cheap. 

Mrs. Macartney. Georgie ! (She rises and puis 
hands on Georgiana's shoulders.) 

Georgiana. Don't try and look shocked. I 
repeat, for the last fortnight I've been making myself 
remarkably cheap — so far without result. And for 
the last fortnight Aunt Catherine has been manoeu- 
vring, beguiling, scheming to get me off her hands 
and on to Adam Lankester's — also without result. 
Mr. Lankester goes on in solid silence — looks at me, 
sits by me, w^alks with me, occasionally talks with 



12 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

me — and says nothing ! (She sits on settee hdow 
fire-place.) 

Mrs. Macartney. Nothing? (Leaning against 
mantelpiece.) 

Georgian A. Nothing that matters. Is it onlv 
43ecause he's too shy ? or is he too stupid to under- 
stand why he was asked to stay here ? or perhaps he's 
a humorist and is secretly and silently amused at 
my coming-on disposition and Aunt Catherine's nods 
and becks and wreathed smiles. That's a horrible 
idea — a truly horrible idea. It never struck me 
before. 

Mrs. Macartney. How can you be so idiotic ! 

Frances. You don't care for him ? (Sits on 
floor by Georgian a.) 

Georgian A. What's that got to do with it ? 

Frances. Don't try to be humorous. Answer 
my question. 

Georgiana. I don't ^/slike him in the very least. 

Frances. But you don't want to marry him ? 

Georgiana. I do — I want to marry him very 
much, 

Frances. Why ? 

Georgiana. \\'hy ? Because every one expects 
it of me — and I expect it of mvself. 

Frances. And you think that's a good enough 
reason ? 

Georgiana. Certainly I do. It takes a confirmed 
spinster to be as sentimental as you are, Frances. 
What's to happen to me if I don't marry — what's 
to be the end of me ? (Crosses to piano. She then 
walks backwards and forwards.) That doesn't trouble 
you, perhaps — but it does me. I shall just go on 
getting older and older and finally finish up on a 
pittance from my relations, in cheap seaside lodgings 
— with a cat. . . . Surely, you're not romantic 
enough to imagine that all the married women of vour 
acquaintance have selected their more or less un- 
suitable husbands out of pure affection ! 



JUST TO GET MARRIED. 13 

Frances. I'm not ; but I should be very sorry 
to think that you, or anyone else I cared for, would 
select a husband for any other reason. 

Georgian A (back r.). It's not a case of selection 
with rne. When you're a pauper you've got to take 
what comes along. 

Frances. Georgie, you mustn't marry him ! 

Georgiana. Tell that to Aunt Catherine — and hear 
what she'll have to say on the subject. (To Mrs. 
M.-\c.\rtney.) Do you know how much she gave 
for this dress of mine ? (SJie pirouettes to show the 
goicn.) 

Mrs. Macartney (surveying it critically). Twenty 
guineas ? 

Georgevna. Under the mark. Twenty-two. 

Frances (impaticnilv). But what has that got to 
do 

Georgiana. Everytliing, goose ! This nice new 
expensive frock was a speculation on Aunt Cathe- 
rine's part. (Sits on sofa.) 

Frances. A speculation ? (Sits on chair c. by table.) 

Georgiana. On the day that Mr. Lankester 
accepted her invitation to stay here, Aunt Catherine 
suddenly discovered that my wardrobe was badly in 
want of renewing. It didn't need a Sherlock Holmes 
to draw the very obvious inference, did it ? She 
came fussing up to my room before dinner, poked 
about among my clothes and finally declared that 
they were all hopelessly shabby and that she and I 
must have a day in London to get me some new frocks. 

Mrs. Macartney. And you had it ? (Sits on 
settee below fire-place.) 

Georgiana. We did — such a day ! Aunt Cathe- 
rine ran up a good sixty pounds' worth of bills — ^all 
on my account — ran 'em up without turning a hair. 
I've never known her so generous — she stuck at no- 
thing that she thought might possibly make me more 
attractive. She was perfectly — well, I can only call 
it reckless over the hats. Four new ones, Julia — 



14 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

four new hats from Celine's in one afternoon. Well, 
- at any rate, even if I don't get a husband, I shall 
have ni\- four new hats. 

Frances (dryly). That will be a consolation. 

Georgiana. ' Which I shall be greatly in need of. 
If my position is painfully ridiculous now, it will be 
still more painfully ridiculous if Mr. Lankester decides 
that he can do without me, thank you. 

Mrs. Macartney. Georgie — rcallv— I never 
heard 

Georgiana [to Frances). Why this pretence of 
amazement, Julia, my love ? You know quite well 
that everything I have been saving is pcrfecth' true. 

Mrs. Macartney (huffily), l don't at all, and 
I sincerelv hope it isn't. (Rises— to fird-place.) 

Georgiana. Rubbish, rubbish, rubbish \ 

Frances [reprovingly). Georgie, what's the matter 
with you to-night ? 

Georgiana. " What's the matter with me ? Un- 
certainty and self-consciousness. The whole thing's 
beginning to tell on my nerves. 

Mrs. Macartney (tartly). And vour manners, 
Georgie. 

GEORCriANA. Quite so^aiid my manners. Be 
generous and extend your forgiveness to an unfor- 
tunate spinster w^ho sees her last chance of matrimony 
trembling in the balance. 

Mrs. Macartney (mollified). Not necessarily 
your last chance. (Crosses to chair by table.) 

Georgiana. H'm — I don't know; Fminchned to 
think it is. Fm getting on. Twenty-nine last April. 
No good attempting to conceal the fact ; Debrett 
gives it away remorselessly. It's onlv the lower 
orders who can remain permanentlv at two-and- 
t went v. 

Mrs. .AL\cartney. Don't be so silly. Twenty- 
nine is nothing for a woman to confess to nowadays. 

CtEORGIAna. Twenty-nine is perilouslv near thirty. 
You should have heard Aunt Catherine sidi last time 



.iv>T TO r:p:T married. 15 

she wislied mc- many happy returns of the day: I 
knew what she was sighing over — her dwindling 
chances of getting somebody else to support me. 

Frances {comes to sola). Georgie, I wish you 
wouldn't talk like that. It's unjust to yourself and 
unjust to her. She's your mother's sister — she's 
fond of \ou. 

Georgiana. I never said she wasn't — -I believe 
she is — quite fond of me. She has always been very 
good to me, of course — but I should have thought 
even you could have seen that she's dying to get me 
married. 

Mrs. .Macakt.\i:y. I don't think you ought tosav 
that. 

Georgian-.^ Oli. I'm not blaming her — far from 
it. Win' should she want to be saddled with me ? 
Daphne's getting on for seventeen. I suppose she'U 
be coming out in a year or so and Aunt Catherine 
won't want to drag me round when she has a daughter 
to marry. Besides, when all's said and done, I'm 
an expense. I eat and go railway journey's, and I 
must have clothes, and being one of the family, the 
clothes must be decent. And Uncle Theodore has 
plenty of other expenses just now, poor old boy. 
Walter has been running into debt in India 

Mrs. Mac.\rtney. Has he really ? 

Georgiana. Frightfully — Then Tod is going up 
to Christchurch in the autumn. Why, if I were x\unt 
Catherine I should be pining to get rid of my impe- 
cunious niece — ready and willing to thrust into her 
the arms of any one. And yet Frank'e has the 
absolute brutality to suggest that I ought to refuse Mr. 
Lankester if he gives me the chance. You've more 
consideration for Aunt Catherine, haven't you, Julia ? 
You think it's my duty to jump at him, don't you ? 

Mrs. M.\cartney. Georgie, you have the most 
extraordinary manner of looking at things. 

Georgiana. Not at all — it's just the same as 
yours, really. You'd put it a little differently of 



16 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

course — say it was quite time I was settled in life 
and that every woman is happier married. But it 
all comes to the same thing, however you put it — 
doesn't it, Frankie ? 

ipRANCES. I quite agree with you — it does. [Crosses 
io piano.) 

Georgiana. I known perfectly well that every one 
in this house, from Aunt Catherine to the scullery- 
maid, is wondering whether or not I shall go off at 
last — and that their interest is shared by the Chesneys 
and the Collingbournes and the Fitzarthurs and the 
rest of the county ; and I know perfectly well the 
sort of things you will all say if I don't go off. 

Mrs. Macartney. How can you possibly 

Georgiana. Fm neither blind, deaf, nor an 
idiot, and of course I know. Fve said just the same 
things about other women m.yself — I only wish I 
hadn't. I can tell ^'ou Fm dreading to-morrow 
morning 

Mrs. Macartney. To-morrow morning ? 

Georgiana. If — nothing happens. I can just 
imagine what Aunt Catherine's face will look like 
Over the tea-cups — gloomy but resigned — regretting 
that wasted sixty pounds 

Mrs. Macartney. What nonsense ! 

Georgiana. Nobody will say anything, of course, 
but every one will be contemptuously sympathetic 
— and I shall feel unutterably small. ' Delightful 
prospect, isn't it ? Still, the other's not much more 
inviting. 

Mrs. Macartney. The other ! {Siis on sofa.) 

Georgiana. Getting engaged. Can't you ima- 
gine the fuss. 

Mrs. Macartney. Oh, engagements alwavs mean 
that. 

Georgiana. The fuss — and the bother. 

Mrs. Macartney. Georgie, really 

Georgiana. I am sure Uncle Theodore will say 
that he has always looked upon me as a daughter-^ 



JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

it's just the sort of thing he would say. And 
know every one will insist on embracing me- 



Franxes (qtiietly). Including Mr. Lankester. 
[Walking to hack of sofa.) 

Georgiana [turns swiftly and looks at her — then 
shrugs her shoulders). No doubt — and I suppose 
I shall have to call him Adam ! What a name to have 
inflicted on you by your godfathers and godmothers 
at vour baptism — Adam ! 

Frances (quietly). As you don't seem to care for 
either of the alternatives you've mentioned, why not 
try a third ? [Leans over the hack of sofa R, of 
Georgiana.) 

Georgiana. Because there isn't a third. 

Frances. There is — if you've the pluck to take it. 

Georgiana. What is it ? 

Frances. Come up to London with me to-morrow 
morning ? 

Georgiana. To London with vou. WT.at for ? 

Frances. I can put you up for as long as you like 
— permanently. 

Georgiana. Permanently ? What do you mean ? 

Frances. If you lived with me you need not cost 
Sir Theodore more than a pound or so a week — 
very much less than you cost him here. You could 
put that to him. You'd have to do without a good 
deal ; but you'd be able to stand on your own, 
and — respect yourself. 

Georgiana. [sharply). Respect myself? 

Frances [quietlv). You don't feel much respect 
for yourself now, do you ? 

Georgiana [opens her mouth as if to speak, then 
checks herself, alter a moment). You're rather rude, 
Frankie — but vou mean well. 

Frances. I do. Well, what's the answer ? 

Georgiana. My dear Frankie, no. I'm afraid 
I'm going to be rude too — but do vou remember the 
last time I came to see you in the back room you 
call your studio ? 

B 



18 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

Frances. Oh, ves — nearly three months ago. 
What about it ? ^ 

Georgiana. It was getting on for six o'clock in 
the evening, and you were having a meal which might 
have been either a late afternoon tea or an early 
dinner. It consisted, if I remember rightly, of tea, 
stewed prunes, cold potatoes and sausages — the 
sausages were frying on an oil-stove when I came in — 
a smelly oil-stove. 

Mrs. Macartney (seated). Georgie — don't exag- 
gerate. 

Georgiana. I'm not exaggerating. It's quite 
true, isn't it ? 

Frances. Quite. 

Georgiana. I wondered how on earth you could 
stand it. I know I couldn't. Thank you very much, 
Frankie. 

Frances. All right. 

{Entsy Footman by door above' fir 3-place R. carrying 
coffee-iray, li'Jiich Ji: sets on table by sofa and exits. 
Immediately after him Bertha Grayle, a plump 
school girl ci'itJi her hair down her back. Georgiana 
has gone up stage.) 

. Bertha. Hallo ! where's everybody ? (Crosses 
to piano.) 

Mrs. Macartney. Your mother's writing letters 
and the men are ^till in the dining-room. 

Bertha (not seeing Georgiana). And where's 
Georgie ? Wandering round the garden with Mr. 
. Lankester — as usual ? 

Georgiana (turning sharplv). Go and tell Aunt 
Catherine that coffee's here — she's in the library. 
Bertha (sniggering). Oh, all right. Didn't see 
you were there — sorry. 

(Exit.) 

Georgiana [pouring out coffee sarcastically). That's 



JUST TO GET MARRIED. 19 

the sort of thing I ought to pretend not to notice. 
Sugar ? 

{Enter Tod Grayle l. — about eighteen, a typical 
public school boy.) 

Mrs. Macartney. Here you are. Tod — at last. 
What a time you've all been. 

Tod [handing coffee). Lankester's been telling us 
stories — backwoods and all that sort of thing — some 
of 'em quite good. He's really an interesting chap 
when you can get him to speak — {nisaningly), 
isn't he. Georgie ? 

Georgiana [snappishly). I'm sure I don't know. 

Tod. Don't you get him to speak, then ? 

(Enter Lady Catherine and Bertha. As Lady 
Catherine comes in Georgiana relinquishes her 
seat on sofa.) 

Lady Catherine. So sorry to desert you all for 
such a long time, but I had my Indian letter to get 
off to Walter. [As Georgiana gives her coffee.) 
Thank you, Georgie. Tod, tell your father coffee's 
ready — oh, here he is. [She sHs in Georgiana's 
place on sofa.) 

(Enter Sir Theodore Greyle and Adam Lankester. 
Adam is a big, bronzed man, slow and awkward in 
his movements and manifestly ill at ease in the 
presence of ladies.) 

Sir Theodore. Really, you don't say so. And 
for five months you never saw a human being ? I 
wonder you could stand it — the loneliness — the strain 
on your nerves— — 

Adam. Oh, you can stand most things — if you 
have to. 

Sir Theodore. Lankester has been giving us 
some of his experiences in the far North -W^est — most 
thrilling. [Sits c.) 

Lady Catherine. Why haven't we been treated 



20 Jc'ST TO GET MARRIED. 

to any of them, Mr. Lankester ? I delight in thrilling 
stories. 

Adam {awkwardly). I'm afraid they wouldn't in- 
terest you much, Ladv Catherine ; they're only 
about — about things that happened to me — out 
there- 

Mrs. Macartney. About things that happened to 
you — that would make them all the more exciting • 

Adam. Oh, I don't know. 

Bertha. Come along, Mr. Lankester, let's have 
one now — something blood-curdling with a bear in 
it. (On stool with her hack to the audience.) 

Adam {stammering). I'm afraid — I really 

Georgiana. Coffee, Mr. Lankester ? {Over to 
Adam l.) 

(Lady Catherine froicns and shakes her head at 
Bertha.) 

Adam. Thank you. 

Georgiana. Wait a minute. I haven't given 
you any milk. 

Adam. Oh, it doesn't matter — thanks. 

(He takes his cup and sits down a little apart as if 
nervously anxious not to be draum into conversation.) 

Sir Theodore. I'm sorry you can't spare us 
another day or two, Miss Melliship. 

Frances. I'm sorry too ; but I'm afraid my work 
can't wait. 

Mrs. Macartney. I thought that the beauty of 
being an artist was that you could choose your own 
time and work when you liked and how you liked. 

Frances. Not when you do black and white for 
cheap papers — but perhaps that isn't being an a,rtist. 
I've got lot of work to get through this week, so I 
really must be off by the early train to-morrow. Mr. 
Lankester's going at the same time, isn't he ? 

Lady Catherine. I beheve so. (Frances rises.) 



JIST TO (;KT married. 21 

Mrs. Macartney. You'll be able to travel up to 
London together. 

Tod. Feel inclined for a game of billiards, Lan- 
kestcr ? 

Lady Catherine. Tod, I really cannot allow you 
to drag Mr. Lankester off to the billiard-room every 
night. I know he only plays to please you. 

Ada:m. Really I 

Lady Catherine. No. Mr. Lankester, I shan't let 
you be victimized over that stupid game. You're 
much too good-natured. 

Tod. \\'hv. mater 

Mrs. Macartney {up jrom sofa s/ic crosses h.c. to 
Tod). Will you take me on, Tod, or don't you think 
me worthy of vour cue ? Give me fifty up and Lll 
make a fight for it. 

Tod. All right. (Exit r.) 

Mrs. Macartney. And Bertha can mark for us. 
{Above sofa.) Are you coming to look on, Miss 
Melliship — and jeer at my flukes. 

Frances. Oh, very well. 

{Exeunt Bertha, Mrs. Macartney, Frances.) 

(Georc.iana /;<:/,s- risen and is standing by the ivindow 
looking out into the garden.) 

Lady Catherine. Georgie, if you're going out 
into the garden, it's much too damp to go without a 
wrap. Lm sure Mr. Lankester will fetch you one out 
of the hall. 

Adam. Oh, certainly. 

{Exit into hall.) 

(Georgiana does not turn or take any notice until he 
returns carrying a wrap.) 

Is this — I hope this will do ? 

Georgiana. Ouite well — thanks. 

(He puts it round her.) 

Are vou comins: out ? 



22 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

Adam. I should like it — above all things — if I 
may. 

{Exeunt Adam and Georgian a into garden.) 

(Lady Catherine, who has taken out some fancy work, 

looks after them. Sir Theodore puts down his 

cup and moves towards the door. She turns as she 

hears him.) 

Lady Catherine. Where are you going, Theo- 
dore ? 

Sir Theodore. To the study. Mercer is waiting to 
see me — something about those repairs, I suppose. 
{Leans over sofa at door up r.) 

Lady Catherine. Wait a moment. I want to 
speak to you. 

Sir Theodore. What about ? 

Lady Catherine, (ieorgie and Mr. Lankester. 

Sir Theodore. Georgie and Mr. Lankester ? 
What about them ? Do you mean he has 

Lady Catherine. No, he hasn't. 

Sir Theodore. He hasn't ! Dear me — I was in 
hopes — — 

Lady Catherine. So was I ; and it's just because 
he has not said anything to her that I felt bound to 
discuss things with you. This is his last evening here. 

Sir Theodore. Then do you think he doesn't 
intend {Coming c.) 

Lady Catherine. I really don't know. I am 
quite at a loss to understand his conduct — it is most 
incomprehensible. He is alwavs with Georgie — 
follows her about from morning till night and does not 

seem happy out of her sight— and yet {Shrugs 

her shoulders.) 

Sir Theodore. Dear, dear ! It would be a very 
desirable match for her — suitable in every way. {Over 
to sofa r.) 

Lady Catherine. Of course it would. 

Sir Theodore. As you say, his — er — attentions 
have certainly been very marked. 



JUST TO GET MAHKIHD. 23 

Lady rATiiEKiXE. Of course tliey liave — and 
tliat is why something must be done. 

Sir Theodore. Somc^thing must be done ? 

Lady Catherine. If he does not speak to her 
to-night. 

Sir Theodore (;'o//;z^ so/t/). But, my dear Cathe- 
rine, what is to be done ? If a man won't come to the , 
point, he won't. You can bring a horse to the water, 
you know, but you can't make him drink. I'm sure 
you ha\'e given him every opportunity oi — er — be- 
coming thoroughly acquainted with Georgie and 
— er — ascertaining the state of his feelings towardsher. 

Lady Catherine. I know I have. The next step' 
rests with you. 

Sir Theodore. Witli me ? {Sit; oni^oia r. of Lady ^ 
Catherine.) 

Lady Cathi:rixe. And it must certainly be taken 
])efore Mr. Lankester leaves the house to-morrow 
morning. 

Sir Theodore. But what — I don't understand. , 

Lady C.\therine. My dear Theodore, you surely 
understand that when an unmarried man pays as» 
much attention to an unmarried woman as Mr. 
Lankester has done to Georgie, he makes her, to say 
the least of it, conspicuous. 

Sir Theodore. Certainly, certainly. 

Lady Catherine. And he gives her and her 
relations every right to believe that he intends to ask 
her to be his wife. I am sure we have all of us 
been under that impression. 

Sir Theodore. Oh. certainly, certainly. 

Lady Catherine. You surely understand, too, 
that Georgie's position, if Mr. Lankester does not 
eventually propose to her, will be a most unpleasant 
one. 

Sir Theodore. A'es. yes. 

Lady Catherine. She has given him a certain 
amount of encouragement. 

Sir Theodore. She has — decidedly — she has. 



24 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

Lady Catherine [reprovingly). Encouragement 
which, under the circumstances, I consider she was 
quite entitled to give him. 

Sir Theodore. Oh, no doubt. 

Lady Catherine. But that will not make things 
any better for her if Mr. Lankester walks out of the 
house without having committed himself to a — a 
definite declaration. 

Sir Theodore. No, no, of course not— of course 
not. It would be most unfortunate for her. 

Lady Catherine. It would. You know what 
people would say — that she had been running after 
him, throwing herself at his head. And that is why 
I feel that you are in duty bound to interfere in her 
interests. 

Sir Theodore {uneasily). To interfere ? 

Lady Catherine. As Georgiana's uncle- 

Sir Theodore. Onlv by marriage, my dear. 

Lady Catherine. That doesn't matter. To all 
intents and purposes you are her guardian and there- 
fore perfectly justified in pointing out to Mr. Lan- 
kester that his attentions have, to a certain extent, 
compromised her — and you must find out what he 
means to do. 

Sir Theodore. But my dear Catherine — I don't 
think you quite realize what a very unpleasant — 
what a very awkward thing — vou were asking me 
to— [Up to fire-place.) 

Lady Catherine. It has got to be done all the 
same. Georgie's chances of a settlement in life, of 
— of happiness, in short, are at stake, and I feel that 
we must not let the opportunity slip for want of a 
little plain speaking. 

Sir Theodore. Oh, I agree with you there — I 
agree entirely. But — er — if plain speaking is re- 
quired, don't you think that you are the best person ? 

Lady Catherine. I do not. You are the head of 
the family ; the intervention must come from you- 
and from no one else. 



Jl'Sr TO (JET MARRIED. 25 

Sir Thi:()DORE. But my dear, it seems to me that 
it's more. than possible that our — my intervention 
in such an — -er — deHcate matter may defeat its own 
ends. I mean that it is quite Hkely that Lankester 
may resent having pressure put upon him. What do 
you think— eh ? 

Lady C.\theri\e. After the way he has hung 
about Georgie for the last fortnight he has no right 
to resent it. 

Sir Theodore. / should, I know. 

Lady Catherine. It's no use arguing, Theodore. 
There is only one conclusion to be drawn from his 
attitude towards her and that he must be made to see ; 
and I rely upon you to make him see it — tactfully, of 
course. By plain speaking I don't mean aggres- 
siveness. 

Sir Theodore. Xo. no, of course not, but 

Lady Catherine. Tell him that you are very 
reluctant to introduce the topic— I know you are, 
so that will be perfectly true — but that, as Georgie 's 
uncle, vou have no choice — vou feel vour responsi- 
bility— - 

Sir Theodore. Yes, yes — I understand. But it 
will be most — most awkward, most difficult — most 

Lady Catherine. It has got to be done. 

Sir Theodore {sighs gloomily). I wonder how he 
will take it ? {Sits on chair.) 

Lady Catherine. I shouldn't be at all surprised 
if he was very nmch obliged to you for broaching the 
subject. 

Sir Theodore. Obliged to me ? 

Lady Catherine. Yes ; I can't help hoping 
that it is largely his extraordinary — his really un- 
couth shvness, which has prevented him from — from 
doing what we have every right to expect of him. 
If that is the case he will be only too thankful to have 
the way made easy for him by a hint from you. 

Sir Theodore {donbtjulh'). H'm — and supposing 
he isn't thankful and declines to take the hint ? 



26 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

Lady Catherine. Then you ought certainly to 
let him know that you consider his conduct has been 
anything but honourable. 

Sir Theodore {tastily, crosses c). My dear 
Catherine, you know how much I dislike anything in 
the nature of a — a difference of opinion. These sort, 
of scenes are most repellant to me. I do wish — I really 
do wish that you would undertake this most un- 
pleasant duty yourself. You are so much better 
qualified than I am 

Lady Catherine. Quite impossible. 

Sir Theodore {petlislily). And when is this inter- 
view — this very trying interview — to come off ? 

Lady Catherine. To-night 

Sir Theodore. To-night ? 

Lady Catherine. Of course ; Mr. Lankester is 
leaving the first thing in the morning. If he has said 
nothing to Georgie by the time she goes upstairs you 
must speak to him. 

Sir Theodore. H'm. He's in the garden with her 
now, isn't he ? [Looks through window.) 

Lady Catherine {nods). Of course, it's quite 
possible that 3'Our interview may be unnecessary. 

Sir Theodore {irritahly). I sincerely hope so. 
I don't know how I am going to get through the 
business, Catherine. I really don't. It is the — the 
most awkward thing I have ever been asked to do. 
I shan't be able to settle down to anything all the 
evening. I really think 

Lady Catherine. Didn't you say Mercer was 
waiting to see you about some repairs ? 
Sir Theodore. Umph ! 

{Exit L. crossly banging the door behind him.) 

(Lady Catherine goes on with her work. Enter 
Footman to remove coffee tray.) 

Lady Catherine. Tell Hopkins the carriage will 
be wanted to-morrow morning in time for the 9.17. 



JUST TO (JET MARRIED. 27 

FooTMAX. Yes, my lady. 

{Exit Footman with coffee tray.) 

(Lady Catherine suddenly raises her head and looks 
at the windoiv expectantly. Then her jace falls as 
Georgiana and Lankester enter I'rom garden y 
walking a little distance apqrt and silent.) 

Lady Catherine. Well, where have you been ? 

Georgiana [with an* undercurrent of irritation in 
her voice). Straight down the path to the end of the 
garden. We stood and looked over the fence and 
then turned round and came straight back again. 

(Adam and Georchana behind sofa.) 

Adam. Miss Vicary thought it felt rather damp. 
Georgiana. Damp and depressing. Do 3'ou 
mind hanging up my cloak ? 
Adam. I beg your pardon. 

{Takes cloak and exits into hall.) 

(Geor(;iana sits on sofa without looking at Lady 
Catherine, ivho looks at her and sighs audibly. 
Neither speaks. Re-enter Adam.) 

Lady Catherine {hunting about in her work-basket) 
Dear me ! 

Georgiana. WHiat's the matter ? 

Lady Catherine. Mv skein of geranium-coloured 
silk — it doesn't seem to be here. Let me see, 
where can l.have left it? In the morning-room, 
I exect. 

Georgiana {from sofa). Shall I go and look for it ? 

Lady Catherine. No, no — Ld rather go myself, 
I'm not quite sure I left it there— it may be upstairs. 

{As Adam ope7is door l.) 
Thank you. 

{Exit Lady Catherine.) 



28 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

(Adam looks uncertainly at Georgiana, who sits with 
her head on her hand ; then comes down.) 

Adam. You're not feeling well to-night, Miss 
Vicary ? {Behind sofa.) 

Georgiana. What makes vou sav that ? Is it a 
nice polite way of telling me that I'm looking par- 
ticularly plain ? 

Adam. Indeed it's not. I've never seen you look 
prettier — [with sudden confusion) — if you'll allow 
me to say so. 

Georgiana. Oh, I'll certainly allow you to say 
so. Remarks of that kind don't offend me in the 
very least. You like my dress, then ? 

Adam. It's charming and [He hesitates.) 

Georgiana. And what ? 

Adam. I was going to say that it was almost 
charming enough to be worthy of its wearer. 

Georgiana. Thank you for a very pretty speech. 

Adam {standing behind the sofa and looking down). 
It — it wasn't only a pretty speech — I meant it. 

Georgiana {in a low voice). Did vou ? 

[Her hand is lying along the hack of the sofa : he makes 
a motion as if to seize it, then drain's back and walks 
away. Georgiana waits for him to .speak, then lifts 
her head and glances at him quickly.) 

Let me see — this is your last evening here, isn't it ? 

Adam. Yes. I'm going to-morrow morning, I'm 
sorry to say. (Crosses l.) 

Georgiana. I'm sorry too. We shall miss you. 

Adam. It's very kind of you to say so. 

{A slight pause — he comes down and she makes room 
for him on the sofa.) 

Georgiana. What time are vou going ? [MovCi 
R, end of sofa.) 

Adam. By the early train. {Moves to sofa.) 
Georgiana. The 9.17 ? 
Adam. Yes. 



JUST TO GET MARRIED. 29t 

Georgian A. Then you'll have to leave here quite 
I by twenty to nine — before the rest of us are down to 
; breakfast. 
I Adam. I suppose I shall. {Sits on so/a.) 

i Georgiana. That means {She stops.) 

I Adam. You were going to say ? 

Georgiana. I was going to say that it means I 
must say good-bye to you to-night. 

Adam. I suppose it does. I wonder when I am 
likelv to see you — all — again ? 

Georgiana. Not for some time, I am afraid. I 
, don't think there is any hkehhood of our being in 
London this autumn. 
Adam. I see. 

Georgiana. I hope — if we don't see you again just 
3'et — that you won't quite forget us all, Mr. Lankester. 
Adam. I've got a lot of shortcomings, Miss Vicary, 
but I don't think I'm the sort of man that forgets 
his friends. And — some of my friends I — I couldn't 
forget if I wanted to. Not that I do want to. (He 
stammers and stops.) You're much more likely to 
forget all about mc. 

Georgiana. I don't think so. I am sure I — we 
— shall not forget. 
Adam. Thank you. 

{A silence. He sits looking away from her. She 
glances at him, then, seeing that his head is turned 
away, she unfastens her bracelet and lets it roll on 
the floor.) 

. Georgiana. Oh, my bracelet. 

[As he picks it up.) 

Oh, thank you so much. 

(As he is about to hand it to her she holds out her arm 
/or him to put it on. He does so, his hands shaking.) 

It fastens with a snap — the snap isn't broken, is it ? 
Adam (fumbling with it). No, I don't think so. 



2^ JUJ^T TO GET MARRIED. 

I'm afraid I'm awfully clumsy at this sort of thing. 
Georgiana (leaning her head to-d'ards him and appear- 
ing to look at bracelet. ) It's a rather difficult clasp. 
Adam. That's it, isn't it ? (He drops her arm.) 
Georgiana. Yes, that's it. It's quite all right 
now — thank you very much. (She leans hack resign- 
edly). Quite' all right. 

(There is a momentary silence and then Georgiana 
rises suddenlv and irritably walks to the piano and 
stands beside it playing with one finger. Adam 
remains seated. She plays " When we are Married.") 

Adam (with an effort). You are fond of music, 
Miss Vicary ? 

Georgiana. Not particularly. 

Adam. But you play. 

Georgiana. I can do this sort of thing — with one 
finger. I don't know that I should call it playing. 
(She continues to strum.) 

Adam. What — what's the name of that tune? 

Georgiana (beating out the tune on the piano). 
Don't you recognize it ? 

Ada:m (trying to make conversation). It's very 
pretty. 

Georgiana. Do you think so ? 

Adam. Yes — I like it. 

Georgiana. I don't. 

{Co7ttinues strumming, then suddenlv breaks off in the 
middle of a phrase, shuts the piano with a hang and 
walks towards him sharply with her hand oiit- 
str etched.) 

Good night ! (Curtly.) 

Adam. You're going ? 

Georgiana. To bed — yes. I'm tired — got a 
headache. 

Adam. I'm so sorry — I hope 

Georgiana (cutting him short). Good night. 

Adam. Goodnight. 



JUST TO GET MARRIED. 31 

{She turns Irusqiiely and goes to door. Adam stands 
staring after her lilt she reaches it.) 

Adam {suddenly). Miss Vicary ! (Crosses to her L.) 

Georgian A [turning). Yes. 

Adam. Don't go for a minute — don't go, please. 

Georgian A. Why not ? 

Adam. Because {He hesitates.) 

Georgian A. Yes. 

Adam. Because — Georgic, I want vou, I love you. 

Georgiana {standing quite still and looking down). 
You love me ? 

Ad.\m. I do — with all my soul, I do. You must 
have seen it, you must have guessed it. Georgie, 
Georgie, is it yes or no ? 

Georgiana {witJiout moving or raising her head). 
It's yes. 

Adam {draws a long breath). It's — ves. Thank 
the Lord, it's yes. 

{He strides across the room to her and seizes her in his 
arms.) 

My girl — my own girl ! Kiss me. 

Georgiana {with a sudden impulse, pushing him 

away). No — I 

Adam {astonished). You won't ? What have I 

done ? I didn't mean, Georgie 

Georgiana {recovering herself, laughing nervously). 
You nearlv pulled my hair down — with your arm. 
You must be — careful. {Going centre to chair, back 
to audience.) 

Adam {relieved). Is that all ? I thought it was 
something serious. I'll be very careful this time. I 
won't even touch vour pretty hair. 

{He takes Jier in his arms and kisses her ; she submits.) 

You blessed little soul ! Great snakes — what a 
lucky chap I am ! You mayn't have chosen anything 
\'erv much in the wav of a husband, but you shall 



32 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

never regret having said yes to me to-night — never, 
so long as I live and so help me God ! And so you 
love me, eh ? Say it — I will hear you say it. 

Georgiana. I {She stops.) 

Adam. Say it ! Say it ! 

Georgiana {huskily). I love you. 

Adam. That's the best thing I've ever heard in mv 
life. 

Georgiana. Let me go now. 

Adam. Why ? 

Georgiana. Some one might come. 

Adam. Hang some one ! I don't care if they do. 
Let 'em come — let 'em all come. 

, Georgiana. But I care^I should hate it. Please, 
Mr. Lankester — 
■ Adam. Adam ! 

Georgiana. Adam, then. Let me go, please. 

(He releases her ; she sits, nervously uneasy and trying 
to control herself.) 

Adam {laughing). And to think how frightened 
I was of you a little time ago ! 

Georgiana. Were you ? {Leaning on piano.) 

Adam. Frightened isn't the word. I was terri- 
fied, Georgie — terrified to death of a bit of a thing 
like you. 

Georgiana. You needn't have been. (l. oj piano. ) 

Adam. Ah, but I'm not used to women, you see — 
your sort. You've been right out of my life for ten 
years now and I don't know how to take you. Do 
you know, I've been on the point of asking you half 
a dozen times the last few days — I have — and every 
blessed time I've funked it. I was on the verge of 
speaking out before to-night 

Georgiana. Were you ? 

Adam. Yes — twice. {Goes up to her.) When 
I was putting on your bracelet just now your dear 
little face was so close to mine — and, Georgie, you 
dent knoiv how 1 longed to kiss you. 



JUST TO GET MARRIED. 



33 



Georgiana. Did you ? (At piano.) 
Adam. And a quarter of an hour ago when we were 
in the garden— when we turned round at the end of 
the path. I was behind you and you looked so 
sweet, I almost caught you in my arms— and then I 
simply daren't. I was so sickeningly afraid of what 
you'd say. 

Georgiana (trying to laugh). Oh, you needn't 
have been afraid. 

Adam {laughing now and again from sheer happiness 
as he rattles on). Ah, I know that now, but I didn't 
know it then. That makes all the difference. There's 
one thing you women score over : you don't have to 
screw your courage up to putting the question— 
you're spared that. It's an awful job. Ouf, I'm glad 
it's over. If I'd only been a bit surer of you, Georgie, 
I'd have put myself out of my misery days ago. 

Georgiana. It's almost a pity you didn't. 
[Kneels on stool, and leaning over piano.) 

Ada.m. \Mien did \'ou first begin to care for me. 
then ? 

Georgiana. Oh. I don't really know — it's so 
difficnilt to say. 

Ada.m. But you must have some sort of an idea. 
Come now. 

Georgiana {nervously). I — I liked you very 
much when I met you at the Collingbournes^very 
much indeed. 

Adam. But you didn't think of mc as a possible 
husband then ? 

Georgiana. Xo— it vv-asn't until later that I 
began to think of you as a possible husband. 

Ad.am. When I came down here, a fortnight ago, I 
had quite made up my mind to ask you to be my wife. 
Georgl-^na. Had you ? 

Adam. Although I hadn't the pluck to speak out, 
you must have seen that I cared for you. 

Georgiana. I wasn't sure, of course ; but I 
thought so. 

c 



34 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

Adam. And you hoped so ? 

Georgian A. Yes, I hoped so. 

Adam. That's right. . . . What's Lhc ring to be, 
eh ? Sapphires, diamonds, emeralds ? {Taking her 
hand and playing ivith her fingers.) 

Georgiana. Oh, I don't much mind — diamonds, I 
think. 

Adam. J3iamonds it shah be, then. {He snatches 
up her hand, inrns its palm upwards, and kisses it.) 
By Jove, I am a hicky devil ! D'you know what I 
feel' like, Georgie ? As if I could burst out into 
poetry if I only knew the wav. 

Georgiana. Oh, please don't. {Breaks away from 
him.) 

Adam {laitgJiing heartily). Never you fear — ^I 
don't know the way. Poetry isn't much in my line ; 
but if it was. I'm sure I could write vards about you. 

Georgiana. I'm afraid you'll be horribly 
disillusioned when you come to know me better. 
I should call myself a distinctly prosaic person. 
(moves c. He stops her.) 

Adam. Whatever you are, you're the one person 
in the world I can't do without. Good God, how I 
love you, Georgie. {He puts his arm round h,r and 
draws her to him.) 

(Slie shivers and closes her eyes. He is about to kiss 
her when the door opens and Bertha Grayle enters.) 

Bertha {seeing them, stops short). Oh ! 

(They stoirt and draw apart ; slie giggles.) 

I beg your pardon. 

{Exit Bertha.) 

Georgiana {going to fr/e-place). The little wretch 
— she saw us 

Adam {jollcws her and takes lier two Jiands). Never 
mind ; who cares ! I've a right to kiss you if I like, 
haven't I ? 



JUST TO (lET MARRIED. 35 

Georgiana. It will be all over the place now. 
She's sure to go straight to Aunt Catherine. 

Adam. Well, let her. What does that matter ? 
{Releasing her.} 

Georgiana {resignedly). And now for congratu- 
lations. {Sits on settee down stage.) 

Adam. Do you object to congratulations, then ? 
Georgiana. I hate fuss — especially sentimental 
fuss and kisses. 

Adam {on the hearthrug). I suppose it's natural 
for you to feel that way — but I don't. I feel as if I 
wanted everybody to know of my luck — as if I wanted 
to shake hands with 'em and tell 'em all about it. 

Georgiana. Are you as happy as all that ? 

Adam {laughing and ivalking up and down). Of 
course I am — and a great deal happier. Even now 
I can't believe it. Georgie — I simply can't believe it. 
{Stopping suddenly and turning to her.) I say, 
though 

Georgiana. What ? 

Adam. Supposing the congratulations don't come 
off ? Supposing it's the other way round, and Sir 
Theodore and Lady Catherine object 

Georgiana. ,Oh, there's not the faintest chance of 
that. 

Adam. You're sure ? 

Georgiana. Dead sure. They'll be perfcctlv de- 
lighted. 

Adam. That's all right. Not that it would have 
made any difference, eh, little woman ? You've said 
yes, so it doesn't much matter who says no. Still 

{Enter Lady Catherine, jcllowed by Sir Theodore, 
then later Mrs. Macartney, Bertha and Tod.) 

Adam {^oing to them). Lady Catherine — Sir Tiieo- 
dore— I don't know what you'll say, but Lve had the 
cheek — I can only call it the cheek — to ask Georgie 
to be my wife — and she's said yes. 



36 JrST TO GET MARRIED. 

Lady Catherine {shaking his hand.) My dear Mr. 
Lankester 

Adam. Then you don't disapprove, Lady Cathe- 
rine ? 

Lady Catherine. Certainly not. (Archly.) I 
don't disapprove if Georgie approves. 

Sir Theodore (jocosely). And Georgie docs, eh ? 
Well, well, well (shakes hands), my heartiest con- 
gratulations, Lankester — my very heartiest con- 
gratulations. 

Georgiana. I told him you'd be delighted. 
Uncle Theodore. 

Sir Theodore. I am I am. Though, all the same, 
mind you, I ought to bear you a grudge for 
taking Georgie away from us. We've always 
looked upon her as a daughter, haven't we, Catherine ? 
And wc shall miss her terribly when you carry her 
off. But we can't expect you to take that into con- 
sideration, eh ? 

Adam. Hardly. I should miss her more if I let 
you keep her. 

Bertha. Then is Georgie really engaged ? 

Tod. Rather ! Buck up, Georgie, and don't look 
so shy. It's what we all come to. 

Lady Catherine (reprovingly). Tod ! 

Sir Theodore (going to Georgiana). My dear 
girl, m.y very dear girl, my warmest congratulations 
(Takes her face betvjeen his hands and kisses one cheek.) 
And my most earnest wishes for your future happi- 
ness. I feel sure it is in good hands. (Kisses her 
other cheek.) 

Georgiana. Thank 3'ou, Uncle Theodore. 

Lady Catherine (going to Jier). Dearest, I need 
not tell you how delighted I am — how really and 
truly delighted. When I think of your poor dear 
mother and how glad she would have been. (Kisses 
her on both cheeks.) 

(Georgiana turns her head automatically to be kissed.) 



jrsT TO (;et married. 37 

Gec)K(;iaxa. Thank you, Aunt Catherine. 

Mrs. ]VrAC.\RT\EY {coming forward and kissing her 
effusively, same bus.). Dear Georgie 

Georgiaxa. Thank you, Julia. 

Bertha {giggling). I congratulate you, Georgie. 

Georgiana. 'Good heavens, do you'want to kiss 
me too ? Come along, then. 

(.S7/t^ seizes Bertha by the hair, pulling back her head 
and gives a vicious peck at each of )ier cheeks.) 

Bertha. Ovv— Geogie ! 

CxEORCiiANA. There you are. Had enougli or 
would you lik'- any more ? Now then {stands 7i'ith 
her arms to her sides and her face lifted stiffly), anyone 
else want to fall on m>- neck ? If so, pleasa come on 
and get it ()\er. What about vou. Tod ? Aren't 
you yearning to embrace each of mv blushim? cheeks ? 

Tod {decidedly). No, thanks ! 

Georgiana. That's a mercy— much obliged. 
Then, as there appears to be no further offers, I 
suppose the touching ceremony may be considered at 
an end. {To Adam.) You're delighted— I'm de- 
lighted —every one's delighted and — we're engaged ! 

Adam {laughing, draws her hand through his arm 
and pats it proudly). Yes, we're engaged. 

ClRTAIX. 



ACT II 

Two months later. 

The library in Sir Theodore Grayle's country house. 
It is evening. The lamps are lit and\ fires blazing. 
A plan of the scene will be found at the end of the 
play: 

[As the curtain rises, Lady Catherine Grayle is 
discovered alone, ivriting at table. Then enter 
Footman r.) 

Footman. Mrs. Macartney. 

{Enter Mrs. Macartney in travelling dress.) 

(Exit Footman.) 

Lady Catherine [going to her). My dear Julia. 
So nice to see you again — our first arrival. You're 
not wet ? 

Mrs. Macartney.- Not a bit, thanks. But what 
odious weather ! It will be too sad if it's like this 
to-morrow. ' 

Lady Catherine. Oh, let's hope it will clear up. 
You'll have some tea ? 

Mrs. Macartney. No, thank vou— really no. 

Lady Catherine. You're sure? 

Mrs. Macartney. Sure. I had a tea-basket in 
the train— quite drinkable. Mr. Lankester got it for 
me at the junction. 

Lady Catherine. Adam ! You travelled with 
him, then ? 

Mrs. Macartney. All the wav— ran up against 

38 



jrST TD CET :\IAKRIED. 39 

him on tlie platform at St. Pancras. He really sur- 
prised me- I never saw sueh a ehangc in a man. 

[HoiJi sit at round tabic.) 

Lady Catiif.rixk. A ehango ? 

Mrs. Mac.vrtnkv. He can actually talk now. 

Lady C.mhkrink. Oli yes. Georgic has improved 
])im wonderfully. 

Mrs. Macartxi:y. He talked the whole way— 
nearly all the time about her. 

Lady Catherim:. 1 can quite believe it. 

Mrs. Macart\];y. I assure you it was really 
touching. 

Lady Catiierini:. Yes, I don't think 1 ever met a 
man who was more devoted. And between our- 
selves, Julia, it isn't only talk. He lias acted most 
})ropcrly — most generously — in other ways. 

Mrs. >L\c.\rtney. Settlements ? 

Lady Cathicrine [nods). Yes. Dear Georgie's 
future is cjuite secure, Lam thankful to say — .'luite 
secure. 

.Mrs. ^L\c.\rtni:y. Thcit is very satisfactory. 

Lady Catherim:. Very. I suppose Adam has 
gone to the Crown ? 

^ Mrs. ^L\cartne;y. Yes. He told me he was just 
going to leave his luggage there and that he should 
be round here before very long. . . . And so 1 am 
the first arrival— no one else has turned up yet ? ■ 

Lady C.vtherixe.. Not yet, but there will be 
several more by dinner time. My sister Constantia 
and the Montgomerys ought to be here between half- 
past six and seven— you know Betty Montgomery 
is one of the bridesmaids. 

Mrs. Macartxey. Oh, is she— I hadn't heard. 

Lady Catherine. Then the Fehx Mundays are 
motoring over from Wroxford— we expect them to 
dine. The Champions and the Merricks are coming 
down from the North, so they won't be here till later. 

Mrs. M.\cartxey. Quite a houseful. 



40 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

Lady Catherine. Oh, quite. It has been a 
regular business to fit them all in. I suppose 
Georgie's told you, when she wrote, that they have 
settled on the Italian Lakes for the honeymoon ? 

Mrs. Macartney. No, she didn't — (xeorgie's 
letters never tell anything. . . . And how is she — 
v^ery happy ? 

Lady Catherine (quickly). Oh, of course. . . . 
She has been wonderfully lucky about presents— 
wonderfully. You must come and have a look at 
them directly. By the bye, those beautiful candle- 
sticks of yours. . . . 

(Enter Footman carrying iico large parcels.) 

Footman. For Miss Vicary, my lady — they've 
just come. I think they're what she was expecting. 

Lady Catherine. Oh, that's right. Tell Miss 
Vicary they're here — 

(Exit FOOT^IAN.) 

Thank goodness — that's a weight off my mind. 
They're from Celine — Georgie's going-away coat and 
hat. They ought to have come days ago, and we 
were beginning to get horribly nervous about them. 
I wired twice to Celine vesterda\- and three times 
this morning. 

{E7iter Georgian A. She is rather pale and tired- 
looking '; her manner is nervous and jerky.) 

Mrs. M*vcartney (going to her). Well. Georgie 
dearest ! 

Georgiana. Julia ! — I didn't know you'd come ! 
Frederick only told me it was parcels. I was up- 
stairs reading the Marriage Service. 

Mrs. Macartney. Sorry to interrupt such an 
interesting occupation. 

Georgiana. Yes, it is interesting, if embarrassing 
in places. 

Lady Catherine. Georgie, my dear 



JUST TO CET MARRIED. 41 

(iivORciANA. I don't believe I ever tlianked you 
properly tor thr candlesticks, Julia — I scribbled off 
to you when my brain was in a muddle of trousseau 
and house-hunting. They're simply lovely. I tell 
Adam I shall ha\(^ to educate him up to them. He 
doesn't know what Siu-itield plate means at present. 

Lady ( atiii:kixi:. Adam and Julia travelled 
from St. Fancras to.ijether. He will be here directly 
— he has only f^one to leave his things at the Crown. 

Gkor(;iaxa (over to chair l.). Oh — will he? . . . 
These are the boxes from Celine's, I suppose — my 
goingviway garments ? 

Mrs. Macartxi:y [as Gkorc.w^ a picks up parcels). 
^'()u're surely not going to carry them off without 
letting us ha\-e a peep at them ? (Crosses to desk L. 
to ^et scissors.) 

Lady Catiii:rixi.. Certainly not. Of course we 
want to see them. Here are the scissors. 

CiK()R(;iAXA (cutti}!^ string). Oh, all right. (Takes 
out coat and holds it up.) There you are. 

Mrs. Macartxky. My dear, what an exquisite colour. 

Cii:oR(;iAX.\. " The bride's going-away costume 
consisted of a long coat in the latest tint of soft per- 
venche blu(\ lined with satin of the same shade, and 
fastened at the side with enamelled buttons ; the 
large picture hat to match w^as daintily trimmed 
with a cluster of ostrich plumes — — " that is to say 
if Celine has done what she was told. (Opening hat 
box.) Yes, she has. 

Mrs. Mac.vrtxey. Do put them on, Georgie. 

Georgiaxa. Oh, bother — I thought it was sup- 
posed to be unlucky. 

Lady Cathiclixi:. Only the wedding dress. 

Georgiaxa. Oh. very well. (Puts on hat and coat 
at glass.) Like 'em ? • 

(Georgiaxa sicishes up and down with a swing of the 
hips and the hands turned outwards like a model at a 
dressmaker's.) 



42 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

Mrs. Macartney. Charming — charming — ^just 
your shade. And fits you perfectly. 

Lady Catherine {going all round her). Perfect. 
Cehne's cut is exquisite. I can ahTiost forgive her for 
frightening us so^ — I had really begun to be afraid 
that she didn't mean to send them in time. 

Mrs. Macartney. What a fearful catastrophe ! 
What would you have done, Georgie ? 

Georgiana (taking off hat and flinging coat on to 
the back of a chair). Done without 'em, I suppose. 
After all, the ceremony would have been quit^ legal 
without a coat to go away in. I don't know that I 
should have minded much — and as for Adam, he 
wouldn't have minded at all. It would be all the 
same to him if I was married in a flannel petticoat and 
went awa}/ in a mackintosh. (Coming down to chair 
with its back to the audience, below the round table.) 

Lady Catherine. I should think he would 
object very strongly. 

Georgiana. Oh no, he wouldn't. He's as much 
in love with me as all that — quite as much. 

Mrs. Macartney. What a truly delightful state of 
things. 

Georgl\na. Yes, isn't it — isn't it delightful ? 

(Enter Bertha Grayle excitedly. She is ivearing a 
light coloured bridesmaid' s dress which she holds 
together at the waist. She stops near door.) 

Bertha. Look here, mother — just look at this. 

Lady Catherine. My dear child, what's the 
matter ? 

Bertha. My bridesmaid's dress — Mrs. Horrocks 
has just sent it back. I told her to take the waist- 
band 'in an inch and she has taken it in about six. I 
can't possibly get it to meet. Look ! (Coming c.) 

Lady Catherine. Really, Mrs." Horrocks is too 
bad 1 (Crosses to door.) 

Bertha. Isn't she — provoking beast ! What am 



JUST TO (lET MARRIED. 43 

I to do, mother ? It's too late to send it back to her 
now. 

Lady Catherine. We must see what Wilson can 
do. I'll come up to the work-room with you and 
talk to her about it. (Exit r.) 

Bertha. I believe the wretch has ruined it. 

Georgian A. You're getting too fat, Bertha, that's 
what it is. You should bant — give up wallowing in 
buttery things at tea-time. 

Bertpia. Oh, shut up ! I hope yoitv skirt won't 
meet round the waist to-morrow. 

(Exit Bertha.) 

Mrs. Macartney (sits on chair l. of table). What 
an appalling wish — poor Bertha ! 

Georgian A (abruptly). So you travelled down 
with Adam ? (Sits r. of table.) 

Mrs. Macartney. Yes — and we talked about you 
all the way. 

Georgl\xa. That goes without saying. If you 
travelled down with Adam, of course you talked 
about me — all the way. . . . It's an odd sensation, 
Julia. 

Mrs. Macartney. What is? 

Georgiana. Being worshipped. Adam worships 
me. 

Mrs. Macartney. That's very evident. 

Georgiana. I wonder what makes him ? 

Mrs. Macartney (laughing and shrugging key 
shoulders). Oh, my dear. . . . 

Georgiana. Sometimes I've caught him looking 
at me as if I were the most wonderful thing in the 
world. 

Mrs. Macartney (lightly). Well, so you are to 
him. 

Georgiana. Yes. ... I haven't seen him for a 
week now. 

Mrs. Macartney. So he told me. 

Georgiana. And I've had seven long letters 



44 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

from him — one every morning. Seven enormousl}' "' 
long letters, telling me, in seven different ways, how 
much he loves me. 

Mrs. Macartney. How very sweet and attentive " 
of him. 

Georgian A. Very. . . . I've had to answer 
them. 

(She walks restlessly to the ivindow l. and pulls hack 
the curtain.) ' 

Nice cheerful weather you've brought down with 
you, Julia. (Looks out.) \ 

Mrs. Macartney. Oh, I think the rain's stopping ' 
— the clouds seemed to be lifting as I came along. '; 
I do hope it will be fine to-morrow. (Looks out of ^' 
wmdow over Georgiana's shoulder.) 

Georgian A. I don't care much. ' 

Mrs. Macartney (sits in armchair l. of window). ' 
Oh, nonsense — of course you care. A fine day makes ' 
such a difference to a wedding. So you're going to 
the Italian Lakes^whereabouts ? ' ^ 

Georgiana. Bellagio. (Crosses behind her and 
sits at desk scribbling in an absent-minded way.) i 

Mrs. Macartney. Perfect place — I envy you. 

Georgiana. Do you ? . . . We shall be away ' 
about a month. Then wc shall come home and — 
settle down. 

Mrs. Macartney. I hear you've found a charm- 
ing little place. 

Georgiana. Oh yes — very. You'll have to come 
and stay with us — Julia. 

Mrs. Macartney. Of course I will, d^ar. 

Georgiana. To see how the experiment works. 

Mrs. Macartney. The experiment. . . . 

Georgiana. Marriage ! 

Mrs. Macartney. Marriage is always an experi- 
ment, of course. But after all — in your case- 
though 3'ou haven't been engaged very long — 



JUST TO GET MARRIED. 45 

you've seen a good deal of Mr. Lankester, you ought 
to know him by this time. ... 

Georgiana. Oh yes, / know him. I should think 
I did — poor old boy. The question is. . . . (She 
breaks off) . . . What do you think of him, Julia ? 

Mrs. Macartney. I like him immenseh— im- 
mensel}^ 

Georgiana. So do I. 

Mrs. Macartney [laughing a little constrainedly). 
Well, naturally — how quaint you are. 

Georgiana. How did he look this afternoon — - 
cheerful — 3r nervous ? 

Mrs. Macartney. Radiant — too happy for words. 

Georgiana. His letters are delirious. I wonder 
what he thinks of mine. . . . How long does that 
sort of thing usually last, eh ? [Crosses to c, leans 
up against table.) 

Mrs. Macartney. What sort of thing ? 

Georgiana. Infatuation. 

Mrs. Macartney. What a question ! How can 
one say — it all depends. 

Georgiana [suddenly). I wish to goodness it was 
three o' clock to-morrow. (Moves aimlessly to window. ) 

Mrs . Macartney. Three o'clock ? 

Georgiana. I shall be married. 

Mrs. Macartney. Are you as impatient as all 
that ? 

Ge orgiana. I am. I want to get it over. It 
will be a relief to know it's too late, and I can't 
go back however much I want to — good Lord, what 
a relief it will be. 

Mrs. Macartney (disturbed). Georgic — what do 
yo\i mean ? 

(Georgiana laughs shortly.) 

Georgie — surely you're not thinking— you're not 
going to do anything silly ? 

Georgiana. ' Oh dear no. I'm not going to do 



4S JUST TO GST MARRIED. 

anything silly. I'm going to do something very 
dishonest. I'm going to marry Adam. (Crosses to 
table c.) 

Mrs. Macartxey (uncomfortably). I don't under- 
stand what you're talking about. 

Georgiaxa. Don't you ? . . . Lying's dis- 
honest, isn't it ? . . . Poor old Julia — don't look so 
agonized. I assure you there's no need. My 
going-away coat is hanging over the back of that 
chair, and my wedding dress is upstairs, and I 
couldn't afford to draw back even if I had the pluck 
— which I haven't. Don't you worry. . . . you'll 
hear the familiar strains all right to-morrow. " Ra — 

ta — ta, ta, ta, ta — ta — ta — ta, ta. ta, — ta — ta— 

ta — ta, ta, ta, ta— " (Hums the " Wedding March " 
walking about.) 

Mrs. Macartney (irritably). Georgie, I do 
wish 

Georgiaxa (interrupting). Dear humbugging old 
tune ! (5/?^ hums the " Dead March " and then stops 
and goes into the " Wedding March " again.) I 
always get muddled between the Chopin Funeral 
March and the Mendelssohn Wedding March. What 
a cad I shall feel when I hear it ! But — after all — 
heaps of other women must have felt ju-st the same 
when they trotted their proud husbands down the 
aisle — poor devils ! Heaps and hundreds of 'em ! 
Did you, when you were married ? 

Mrs. Macartney (rising irritably). I didn't — 
and I don't sec any use in vour saving this sort of 
thing to me. 

Georgiaxa. More do I — I can't think why I do it. 
{Moves to Mrs. Macartxey's side.) Perhaps it's 
intoxication — delight at having reached the crown- 
ing moment in a woman's life. Beautiful thought, 
isn't it ? I've wanted a husband for years. Now 
iVe got what I wanted. When you've got what you 
want, it doesn't do to be too particular as to how 
you've got it. Ta— ta— ta, ta, ta— ta— ta— [She 



JUST TO GET MARRIED. 47 

sits and leans back in her chair humming the " Wedding 
March " loudly.) 

(Mrs. Macartney looks at her tincertainly and then 
makes a step as if to leave the room. Enter Footman.) 

Footman. Mr. Lankester. 

{Enter Adam and goes straight to Georgiana l.) 

(Exit Footman.) 

Georgiana. Oh, tliere you are ! 

Adam (eagerly, without seeing Mrs. Macartney). 
Yes, here I am. 

Georgiana (quickly). You've seen Mrs. Macart- 
ney before to-day. 

Adam (turning and seeijig her). Yes, we came down 
together from London. 

Mrs. Macartnicy. Well, 1 think FU leave you 
two dear people to talk over to-morrow's arrange- 
ments — I expect you've got lots to say to each other. 

Adam. Don't let us drive you away. (Goes to 
door as lie speaks and opens it.) 

Mrs. Macartney. Oh, nonsense — besides, I want 
to unpack before the dressing bell rings. See you 
again at dinner. 

(Ex^t Mrs. Macartney.) 

(ADA?ki do SCI door behind her, then com:s towards 
Georgiana.) 

Ada:\i. Well, old girl ! 

Georgiana. We'l ! 

Adam. Tell me you've missed me ! 

(iEORGIANa. Of course I have. ... So you 
went down to Dorchester ? 

Adam. Yes — ran down yesterday to have a last 
look at the house, and see how things were getting on. 

Georgiana. And how are they getting on — all 
rij?ht ? 



(Adam sits r. of table.) 



48 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

Adam. Oh, yes. Everything is still a bit un- 
finished, of course, and the painters are all over 
the place— but Phillips declares that it shall be all 
spick and span by the time Mrs. Lankester wants to 
come home. And what have you been doing with 
yourself all this time ? 

Georgiana. Oh, need you ask ? Clothes, clothes, 
clothes — morning, noon and night. Nothing else 
— except acknowledge wedding presents. I hope 
you're in the habit of eating enormous quantities of 
toast. 

Adam. Why ? 

Georgiana. The ninth toast rack arrived yester- 
day. 
. Adam. Excellent ! 

Georgiana. From Mrs. Maconochie. As she's 
not coming to the wedding, she won't see the other 
eight, so I've written to tell her it was just the very 
thing we wanted. Would you like to have a look 
at all the presents — they're on view in the morning- 
room ? {Rises and turns to him.) 

Adam. No, not now. I can inspect the toast 
racks later on — I want to talk to 3'ou. I haven't seen 
you for a week. 

Georgiana [talking rapidly as if afraid of a pause). 
How dreadful ! You'll have too much of me soon, 
when I'm served up to you regularly with your 
breakfast, and dinner and tea. 

Adam. What a very unpoetical way of putting it. 

Georgiana. I've always tried to impress on you 
that my views of Hfe are not poetical. 

Adam (gomg to her). By this time to-morrow 
it will be all over, eh ? 

Georgiana. Thank goodness, yes. Rice and 
congratulations and the Voice that breathed o'er 
Eden — and we shall be on our way to Lon- 
don. 

Adam. Well on our way — we're due at St. Pan- 
eras at 6.45. 



JUST TO GET MARRIED. 40 

(lEORGiAXA. I am looking forward to seeing the 
Italian Lakes awfully . . . aren't you ? 

Adam. Yes — with you. 

Gi-:oRGiANA. Dorothy Collingbourne; says they- re., 
simply heavenly. She was there in the Sprihgi 
{Rises and crosses.) . \ 

Adam. Was she ? . . . You're nervous this 
afternoon ? \ ) 

(iKORGiAXA. I — nervous ? 

Adam. I can hear it in your voice. 

Georgian A. Can you — oh well, one doesn't get 
married every day of the week. I s^uppose 1 am 
what you might call nervous. 

Adam (gently). That doesn't mean you're afraid ? 

Gi<:oRGiAXA (with a constrained 4augh). Afraid^^ 
i)i you ? 

Adam. I didn't mean that exactly. 

Georgiaxa (interrupting him. quickly). No, of 
course you didn't. I'm only fidgetty. You'd have 
the fidgets if you'd spent the last ten days having a 
trousseau tried on — linings fitted and -pins stuck 
into your arms. . * • 

Adam. Sounds unpleasant. 

Georgiaxa. Mercifully that's all over, tco. The 
last consignment of my wedding finery turned up a 
few minutes ago — it's hanging over the back of that 
chair. 

Adam. What is it ? 

Georgiaxa (pointino). Those are the garments I 
shall carry you off in when the deed is done. 

Adam, they look very pretty. By the w^y 
(feeling in his pocket) I've brought you a little some- 
thing to wear to-morrow — if you will. 

Georgiaxa. Something to wear ? 

Adam (opening jewel case and showing necklace), 
I hope I've chosen what you like. 

Georgiaxa (in a low voice, coming to c. hack of table). 
It's beautiful. You .shouldn't have— you've given 
me so many presents. 



50 JUST T 3 GET MARRIED. 

AdAm. Let's see what it looks like on you. (He 
lastens it roiivd her neck and turns her to the glass.) 
Now then — what ? 

Georgian A. It's beautiful. You arc good ! 
'Adam {ii'ith sudden vehemence). Not half good 
enough for you, little girl . . . not half good enough.- 
{He puts his hand on her shoulder and looks into her 

Georgian A (shrinks from him a little, then tries 
to- laugh). I do so wish you wouldn't. 

Adam. Wouldn't what ? 

Georgia^^a. Talk like that^ — is if I were a sort of 
wingless angel. You make me almost frightened. 
(Sits R. of table.) 
^^DAM. Of what ? 

Georgiana. Or" being found out. I'm not any- 
thing of the kind. 

Adam. Do you think I don't know that ? (Drags 
-chair above her — c.) I don't want you to be. You're 
good enough for me, just as you are — just Georgie ! 
You'll wear that to-morrow, wcn't you ? With your 
wedding dress? 

Georgiana. Of course I shall. It will look lovely 
on .the satin. I haven't thanked you for it half 
enough. 

"Adam. Nonsense ! 

Georgiana. There's something else I ought to 
thank you for. 

Adam. Something else ? 

Georgiana. Yes. . . . Uncle Theodore was tell- 
ing me — he says that youVe been very good about 
— about settlements and things 

Adam. Georgie, stop ! 

Georgiana. I want to thank vcu 

■ Adam. No. 

^ Georgian A. I ought to be grateful to you. It 
isn't every one who would have acted as you have 
done — when I'm bringing you nothing 

Adam. Except yourself — is that nothing to me ? 



JUST TO GET MARRIED. r.I 

Georgian A. Oh, I know — still (Coming i}.c.) 

Adam. I'm sorry Sir Theodore has been saying 
that sort of thing to you. 

(S/w is silent. He rises and goes to her. He strokes 
her hair gently.) 

VVliat a queer little woman you are. ' 

Georgian A. Why ? 

Adam. You're always trying to underyalue your- 
self. ' ■ S ' \ 

Georgiana. Oh no. 
• Adam {laitghi}ig). Oh yes. You seem to be most 
anxious to rub it into me what a shocking bad^ 
bargain I'ye made in the way of a wife. Well.it^^ 
may be a shocking bad bargain, but it suits me. . . /■.. 
Georgie, you'll nev^er say that sort of thing again. • 
will you — about money — or talk of being grateful ? 

Georgiana. Not if you don't like it. > 

Adam. I don't— it hurts me. 

Georgiana. Why? 

Adam. Because I feel as if I can't have made yoii 
understand what you've brought into my life — the 
happiness — I'm not good at saying what I mean — 
I'm a fool at explaining — but you do understand 
don't you ? What you are to me ? 

Georgiana. Yes, I think I understand that.- 

Adam. If you'd been a rich woman and I'd -been 
a poor beggar without a sixpence I should have 
^sked you to be my wife, just the same — because I 
want you — and I know that you would have given me 
just the same answer. Thank Heaven, I know that ! 

(Georgiana is silent. Her head is bent so as not to 
meet his eyes.) 

there are only two things I want from you — your 
love and yourself. One you've given me already, 
and the other you're going to give me to-morrow . . . 
because you're going to be my wife to-morrow I 
wouldn't change places with any man alive. You 



52 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

talk about being grateful to me — good Lord, it's just 
the other way round. God bless you ... for your 
love. . . . (He draws her towards him tenderly.) 

{With- a sudden stifled cry she thrusts him from her.) 

Georgiana. Don't, I can't let you. 

Adam. What is it ? What's the matter ? 

Georgiana. Don't touch me — don't ! Go away 
and leave me. I hate myself ! (She flings herself 
down, covering her face with her hands at table l.) 

Adam [bewildered). Gcorgie — little woman — — 

Georgiana. I hate myself- -I loathe myself! 
I've never loved you ! I wish I were dead ! 

Adam (stands staring down at her for a moment, then) 
Georgie dear — what is it ? You're upset — over- 
wrought. You don't know what you're saying • 

Georgiana (lifting up her head almost defiantly). I 
do. I'm not going to marry you. 

Adam. You're not 

Georgiana. No. The wedding's off, our engage- 
ment's off — it was all a pretence from the beginning 
—a pretence — a sham— a farce 

Adam. A farce 

^Georgiana (recklessly). A disgusting farce ! Oh, 
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry — but you'd better 
know it now than when it's too late and you're tied 
to me for life. I didn't care twopence for you when 
I said I'd marry you 

Adam (hoarsely). I can't believe it — I won't— 
for God's sake — — 

Georgiana (rises and crosses r. of table). You 
must believe it— you've got to believe it. I'm not 
mad, I'm not joking— I'm not going to be your wife, 
and when I said I cared for vou, I didn't. . . . 
There, now you know ! 

Adam (in a slow hoarse voice). You — acccepted 
me — without caring for me ? 

Georgiana. Yes, I did. 



JUST TO GET MARRIED. 53 

Adam. Then when you told me you loved me, 
it was a lie ? 

Georgiana. Yes, it was a lie. 

Adam. You [fiercely.) I see how it is [sinking 

on chair l. of table). There's some one else you've got 
to care for. Who is it ? That's it — that's what it 
means. 

Georgiana. It doesn't. There's no one else. 
There never has been. 

Adam. I don't believe you. 

Georgiana. There is no one else. I accepted 
you just because there was no one else. 

Adam. You don't love any one else — and you 
don't love me — yet you 

Georgiana. For the simple reason that I wanted 
to get married — oh, can't you see ? 

Adam {with forced calmness). I'm afraid I can't. 
You wanted to get married, you say ? 

Georgiana. Yes — to you or to any one — it 
didn't much matter. Just to get married. 

Adam. And now you've changed your mind ? 

Georgiana. Now I've changed my mind. 

Adam [between his teeth) . May I ask why ? (Geor- 
giana is silent.) I suppose you have found out that 
you are happier as you are ? 

Georgiana. No, it's not that. I'm not at all 
happy as I am — I'm miserable. 

Ada:^i. Then what is it ? [Moves above table, 
Georgiana belou' him.) 

Georgiana. Oh, don't be cruel. 

Adam. Cruel ! 

Georgiana [with an outburst). I'm ahamed of 
myself — I'm ashamed of myself. 

Adam [slowly). You ought to be ashamed of 
yourself^ — and what you've done. It's devilish— 
what you've done. You've lied — and deceived me. 
You've taken my life and broken it — in your cruel 
little fingers. You've done that. [He thumps the 
table with his fists.) Although you didn't care, I 



54 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

cared ; you might have remembered that — you might 
have . . . I cared so much that if it would have 
given you any pleasure, I'd have lain down on the 
ground for you to walk over me ; you know that. 
(His voice breaks.) 
. Georgiana. Yes — I know 

Adam. And your explanation — your excuse — is 
that you wanted to get married. 
■ Georgiana. Yes. 

Adam. Then all I can say is that you might have 
thought of a better one. It's false on the face of it. 
•Georgiana (bitterly). That's all you understand 
about it. 

Adam. I understand- -because you've taught me 
to understand — that there are some women vain 
enough and little-minded enough to take a pleasure 
in humiliating the men who love them. 

Georgiana, No, you're utterly wrong — utterly 

Adam [cutting her short). I understand that, 
though you had no use for my love you had plenty 
of use for my admiration. 

Georgiana. That's not true. (Rises indignantly.) 

Adam. I understand that you wanted to say that 
you could have been my wife if you had chosen — if 
you hadn't preferred to make a fool of me— throw me 
over 

Georgiana. No 



Adam {without noticing her inievruption). Well, 
it's true. You can say, with perfect truth, that you've 
made a fool of a man who thought nothing was too 
good for you — nothing ! But, when you say it, you 
can remember that to me a woman as vain as you 
are seems the most pitiful thing alive. 

Georgiana. Oh, it wasn't that— it wasn't vanity. 
How dare you say so ? 

Adam. I dare say it simply because it is the truth. 

Georgiana. It's not— it's very far from the 
truth. Oh, I w^onder how a man can be so stupid ! 
(Crosses L.) 



jrST TO GET MARRIED. 55 

Adam. Stupid ? . 

(Georgian A. Yes, I've wondered it all along — it. 
amazes mc. (Coming hack l.c.) Arc all good men 
;is dense a^ you are ? Couldn't you see^ — hadn't you 
the sense to see how it was ? 

Adam [grimly). I'm afraid I hadn't- and I'm. 
afraid 1 luiven't now. 

(jKORCiiAXA {defiantly). If you hadn't been so much 
in love with mc you'd have seen througli me months 

Adam. Xo doubt. > 

Georgiana. If you want to know why I promised 
to marry you, it's because I'm a perfectly useless 
woman. [Sits at tabic L.) And v/hat is a perfectly 
useless woman to do but marry ? 

Adam (scorn fully). Even when she d(jcs not care 
for the man who asks her ? . • 

(jHORGiana. Even when she docs not care for the 
man who asks her. 

Adam. I'm afraid I don't agree with you. 

Georgian A. Of course you don't . . . you have 
no imagination. 

Adam. Xo, 1 suppose not ! 

(iiiORGiANA. Oh, I can't help it— it's true. You 
have no imagination — but perhaps it's too much to 
expect y(ju to have any. You're a man and youVe 
got your life in your own hands, to do what you like 
with and make what you want of it. 

Adam. We can every one of us make what we 
like of our own lives. * 

Georgiana. So you think — - Oh, for Heaven's 
sake don't talk copy-book to me. Do you think that 
if I had had my life to do as I liked with— if I had 
been able to choose and free to choose — do you think 
that I should have led you on and lied to you just 
for the fun of the thing ? Do you really think 
that I humbugged you and degraded myself because 
I liked it ? You can't think it 1 Why, 1 tell you that 
night — the night you asked me to be your wife, wheii 



56 Jl'ST TO GET MARRIED. 

yoii took nie in your arms — the first time you kissed 
ine— I was sick with shame — sick ! 

Adam. Then why — in Heaven's name, why • 

(k. up stage.) 

Georgiana. I've told you why already, but you 
won't believe it. Because I wanted to get married 
"— rbecause my relations wanted to get me married. 
Because every woman is expected to get herself a 
husband, somehow or another, and is looked on as a 
miserable failure if she doesn't. ... So I said " yes " 
to the first man who asked me. If you had been 
any one else I should have said " yes " just the same. 
' Adam. Thank you. 

Georgiana. Oh, you needn't think you'd have 
acted differently if you'd been in my shoes. You 
dpn't know what it is — you don't know. ... I'm 
no u^e to any one, I'm no particular use to myself. 
I've got to be kept by somebody and you've got 
enough money to keep me. So I said I'd have you. 

Adam [ironically). Looking upon me simply as a 
means of livelihood. 

Georgiana. Well, I've got to have some means 
of livelihood, haven't I ? . . . Oh, how glad you 
plight to be that you're a man ! 

' ' : . , (There is a pause.) 

Adam. What has induced vou to change your 
mind at the last moment? 

Georgiana (hesitates — then in a low voice). Yon 
have.-. ' • ,■ 

Adam. I-^^^ ? 

Georgiana: Yes. 

Adam.. You mean that, on due reflection, you 
found it impossible to put up with me — even for the 
sake of getting married ? 

.Gtlorca AN A (brokenly). Oh, don't — it wasn't 

' Adam. Theu what ? (Sitting r. of table.) 

Georgiana. It's because you have been so good 
to me — 



JUST TO GET MARRIED. 57 

Adam. What do you mean ? 

(fKORGIANA. It's only since we've been engaged 
that I've found out all it meant to you. I didn't 
realize at first what it would be to take everything 
from you^ — your love and your money and your 
gentleness — and give you nothing in return — nothing. 
It was so mean — it was cheating you. ... If 
you had been any one else, I suppose I should have 
gone on with it ! . . but you ! I'd got to hke you 
so much — so very much — and I was sorry for you-r 
oh, I was sorry. It was such a shame. . . . 

(She breaks down and sobs helplessly. Adam stajids 
looking down at her.) 

Adam. You were sorry for me ? 

CiicoRCiiAXA (drving her eyes). You despise me 
now, I know— vou've got every right to despise me— 
but if vou understood it all I don't think you would 
feel quite like that— I don't mdeed. It was such a 
horrible temptation. 

Adam. A temptation ? 

Georgian A. To say yes. 

Adam. Even though" you didn't care ^ ., ^ 

Georgiana. I've nothing to look forward to if I 
don't marry — and you don't know what it is to feel 
that nobody wants you— that you're rather m the 
way and that even if people are kind to you, they d 
be only too thankful to get rid of you— and not to be 
clever enough to do anything for yourself. ... 
You must see that it's hard. [She rises.) 

Adam. Yes, I see that. 

Georgiana {goes tip to windoiv and stands there a 
short time). And then, if you haven't married, you ve 
failed. There's nothing else— and people look down 
on you. And as you get older there's no one to care 
about you— and you just don't matter. It's so dull 
and miserable— no sort of a future. I dread it so. 
. . . And I did so want to have a home of my 



58 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

own, and be some one — not only Aunt Catherine's 
poor relation. That tempted me. 
Adam. I see. 

Georgiana. Then I'm not one of the women who 
wear particularly well. I'm .e^etting to look my age- 
there are a lot of horrid little lines coming round the 
corners of my eyes. 

Adam. I've never noticed them. 
Georgiana. Poor relations don't count for much 
even when they're nice looking ; but when they're 
old and ugly — well, they oughtn't to be allowed to 
get old and ugly. It would be ever so much more 
merciful to take 'em to the Dogs' Home and smother 
'em painlessly. 

Adam. Don't talk like that. 

Georglvna. I wish I'd been put into a lethal 
chamber and smothered before I met you and made 
you miserable. 

Adam. Georgie ! 

Georgiana [interrupting him). Oh, I know I've 
been a toad to you — an utter toad. But there was 
some excuse for me, and if I'd done what was best 
for myself, I should have married you to-morrow. 
But I've tried to do the straight thing by you — 
and it's just because I've tried to do the straight 
thing that you despise me and look down on me. 

Adam. You're mistaken— I don't. 

Georgiana. Oh yes, you do.. You told me just 
now that I was the most pitiful thing ahve. 

Adam. I am sorry I said that. I beg your pardon. 

Georgiana [after a slight pause— 'tremulously). 
Thank you. . . . You do see how it is then ? 
[Goes to L. of table.) 

Adam. Yes. 

Georgiana. That it is for your sake I have told 
you — not for mine ? 

Adam. Yes. 

Georgiana. But you hate me — you must hate 
me ? (Sits L. of table.) 



jrST TO GET MARRIED. 59 

Adam. I don't sec tliat I have any right to hate 
you. 

Gi:oRGi.\X-\. Oh yes, you have. I've tried to — 
to make amends — now. But I led you on in the first 
place, though you never seemed to see it. 1 ran 
after vou — threw myself at your head. 

Adam (sharply). I won't hear you say such things 
about yourself. 

Gkorgiaxa (she rises). All right— I won't. All 
the same, thev're true -unfortunately. I'd give a 
good deal if thev weren't- and I'd give a good deal it 
I hadn't— liurt you. ... I know I liave hurt you— 
awfully. 

Adam. Don't. 
(There is a silence— Adam moves slon-ly toivards the 
door.) 

(^ii:oRGiAXA. You're going ? 

Adam. There's nothing to keep me here any 
longer. 

Georgian A. Are you going away— right away, 1 

ean ? 

Adam. 1 suppose so. Yes, of course, I'm gomg 
away at once. [He turns to go.) 

Gkorgiaxa. Adam ! 

Adam. Yes. 

Georgian A (stretching out her hand). Won't you. 
sav good-bve to me ? 

Adam (from the door). Good-bye. (Then he 
comes and takes her hand.) 

Georgiaxa (holding his hand— brokenly). 1 m 
sorry — I'm sorry. (She sits at the table.) 

Adam (trying to draw it away from her) . Please 

Georgiaxa \still holding it and sobbing). And you 
were so happy when you came here— when you were 
talking about the house— you looked so happy. 

Adam (huskily). Don't 

(He strides across the room without looking back at 
her and exits.) 



mean 



60 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

{Georgiana sits crying — then dries her eyes — and 
starts and turns her back to the door as Tod Grayle 
enters through the window.) 

Tod. Hallo — where's Lankester ? 

Georgiana. Gone. 

Tod. He's coming back to dinner, I suppose ? 

Georgiana. No, he's not. He has gone away. 

Tod. Gone away. I say (coming round and 
looking at her) is anything up ? You've been crying. 
You've not been having a row ? 

Georgiana. You may just as well know at once 
that my engagement with Mr. Lankester is at an 
end. {She rises and goes to desk.) 

Tod. At an end ! [Incredulously.) Do you 
mean to say that there isn't going to be any wedding 
to-morrow ? 

Georgiana. Yes. 

Tod. I say, old girl. . . . (Whistles.) The cad's 
chucked you — then — what a rotten shame ! 

Georgiana. He's not a cad and he hasn't chucked 
rile ; but we're not going to be married. 

Tod. He hasn't chucked you — then 3'ou must have 
chucked him ? 

(Georgiana is silent.) 

Great Scott, Georgie, what in the name of blazes did 
you do it for ? 

(Georgiana wipes her eyes and sniffs.) 

You don't seem to be particularly happy now you 
have given him the push. 

Georgian.v. I never said I was happy, did I ? 
(Sitting at desk.) 

Tod. I say, does the mater know ? (Crossing; 
to front of desk.) 

Georgiana. No, I want you to tell Aunt Cather- 
ine that my engagement's broken off — now. 

Tod. Me ? — much obliged. 

Georgiana. You might 



JUST TO GET MARRIED. 61 

Tod. Thanks. When the mater's on the war- 
path I prefer to make myself scarce. 

Georgiana. She wouldn't be angry with you. 
I don't feel I can. . . . I'm awfully miserable, Tod, 
and I don't often ask you to do anything for me. 

Tod {touched — gruffly). Oh, all right. 

(jEORGIANA (rising). Thank you, Tod. 

Tod. If you take my advice you'll keep out of 
the mater's way till she's simmered down a bit. 

(}eorgiaxa. Yes — I'm going up to my room. 

{Exit R. icith handkercheif to her eyes.) 

(Tod looks after, whistles thoughtfully and tufTP^s- 
towards door l. Before he reaches it, enter SiR 
Theodore.) 

Tod. Hallo, Dad, I was just coming to look for 
you and the mater. 

Sir Theodore. Were you ? What for ? 

Tod. I've got something to tell you. 

Sir Theodore. Well ? 

Tod. It's a bit of a staggerer. 

Sir Theodore. What do you mean ? {Sits at 
table.) 

Tod. Well, it's about Georgie. The wedding's 
off. 

Sir Theodore. Off ? 

Tod {nods). She's given Lankester the push. 

Sir Theodore {irritably). My dear boy, what non- 
sense are you talking ? 

Tod. It's not nonsense. Lankester's gone. No 
error — he's got the hoof. 

Sir Theodore (stares at him incredulously — then) 
Do you mean to tell me that Georgie has broken off 
her engagement ? 

Tod. You've hit it. 

Sir Theodore (angrily). If this is one of your 
idiotic jokes — — 

Tod. It isn't. 



G2 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

Sir Theodore (after a pause, helplessly). But 
what en earth ? 

Tod. Ask me another. 

Sir Theodore. But wliat did she say — what 
explanation did she give ? 

Tod. She only said she'd chucked him and 
didn't give any explanation. 

Sir Theodore. Perhaps she was only joking ? 

Tod. She didn't look much like it. Her eyes were 
all bunged up and her nose was bright pink. 

Sir Theodore. But what an extraordinarv — • 
what an altogether 

Tod. It is a bit of a staggerer, isn't it ? 

Sir Theodore (r.c). Does your mother know ? 

Tod (l.c). Not yet. Georgie asked me to 

{Enter Lady Catherine r.) 

Lady Catherine. I thought Georgie and Adam 

were here — I want them to [Breaks of/ and 

looks from one to the other — above table c.) Is anything 
the matter ? 

Sir Theodore. I'm afraid there is. 

(Tod goes to the desk.) 

Lady Catherine. What ? 

Sir Theodore. The — the most astounding thing 
has happened. 

Lady Catherine. What is it ? 

Sir Theodore. Georgiana has broken off her 
engagement. 

Lady Catherine. Georgiana has. . . . Nonsense ! 

Sir Theodore. My dear, I'm afraid it's true. 

Lady Catherine. Who told vou ? 

Sir Theodore. Tod. 

Lady Catherine. And who told you ? {Over 
to desk /o Tod.) 

Tod. Georgie ! 

Lady Catherine. Where is Georgie ? 

Tod. I— she {Hesitates.) 



JUST TO GET MARRIED, 63 

Lady Cathkrixi:. Where is Georgic ? 

Tod. I think she said she was going to her room. 

I.ADV Catherine. Ring the bell, please. 

(Tc)D docs so. Lady Catherine sits chair l. /{ 
7>iomentiiry pause, then enter Footman.) 

Send up to Miss Vicary's room, please, and ask her 
to Ci>me down and speak to me at once. 

(Exit Footman.) 

(Mk Theodore moves towards door r.) 

You're not going, Theodore ? 

Sir Thi:odore [uneasily). I thought — you might 
prefer 

Lady Catherini:. I should prefer you to remain. 

(Sir Theodore s'ghs heavily and bringing chair 
(alongside sits — a slight pause.) 

Tod {at de^k l). I say, mater, I think she's rather 
low about it — :k)wn on her luck, you know, and— — • 
Lady Catherine (coldly). Indeed. 

(Another pause. Then enter Georgian a. She looks 
round uith o. sort of nervjus defiance, hesitates and 
then speaks.) 

Georgiana. You sent for mc, Aunt Catherine ? 
(She com:^ c.) 

Lady Catherini:. I sent for you to hear what you 
have t(,> say with regard to an extraordinary — an 
incredible statement 

Georgiana. Tod has told you then ? 

(There is some business between Tod and Sir 
Tpieodore.) 

Lady Catherine. And am I to understand that 
that statement is true ? 

Georgiana (nervously). ' Yes. . . . Aunt Cath- 
erine — — 

Lady Catherine. That without informing any 



64 JUST TO GET MARRIED, 

one — without consulting any one you have broken 
off 3^our engagement at the last moment ? 

Georgiana {in a low voice and without looking at 
her). Yes. I have told Mr. Lankester that I can't 
marry him — because (She hesitates and breaks 

off-) 

Lady Catherine. Then allow me to inform you 
that it is the most outrageous — the most disgraceful 
thing I have ever heard of — the most outrageous 
thing. 

Georgiana (bitterly). That's just what I expected 
from you. (Going r.) 

Lady Catherine. Georgiana ! 

Sir Theodore (hastily). Georgie — Georgie — ■ 
surely that isn't quite the tone to adopt to your aunt. 
(Comes R.) You have done a most unusual — a most 
extraordinary thing. Surely you mu-t see that your 
conduct needs explanation. 

(Tod is now down l.) 

Georgiana. Aunt Catherine didn't ask me for an 
explanation. She just rounded on me straight off 
without trying to find out whether I was right or 
wrong. 

Lady Catherine. You're very much mistaken. 

Georgiana. Oh no, I'm not.' 

Lady Catherine. Georgiana— you are imperti- 
nent. 

Georgiana {bitterly). All that matters to you is 
that I've thrown Mr. Lankester over. My reasons 
for doing so don't matter in the very least. 

{From behind Lady Catherine's chair Tod makes 
sig7ts to her to be quiet.) 

Well, I have thrown him over and you've got me back 
on your hands again. I'm very sorry for you and 
I'm very sorry for myself, but now the thing's done 
it's no good bullying me. (She makes towards the 
door R.) 



JUST TO GET MARRIED. 65 

Sir Theodore {scandalized). Georgie ! 

Georgiana. No, it isn't, Uncle Theodore — 
and it's not a bit of good your waving your hands 
and making faces at me, Tod. If I'm bulhed I shall 
>av what I like back. 

Lady Catherine. Tod, don't stand behind my 
« hair. 

(Tod )}ioves away sheepishly to desk.) 

If this is a specimen of your temper, Georgiana, I 
can only say that Mr. Lankester is to be congratu- 
lated on a fortunate escape. 

Tod (protestingly). Oh, I say, Mater — draw it 
mild. (Coming to Lady Catherine.) 

Lady Catherine. Tod 

Georgiana. I quite agree with Aunt Catherine. 
Mr. Lankester has had a very fortunate escape. 

Lady C.\tiierine. You've treated him abomin- 
ably. 

Georgi.vn'a. I know that. 

Lady Catherine. To throw him over on the very 
day before the wedding— it's- worse than an insult. 

Georgiana. It was the best thing I could do 
for him, considering I never cared for him. 

Lady Catherine. Then you should never have 
accepted liim. 

Georgiana. I know that, too— and -.o do you 
— you've known it all along. 

L.VDY Catherine. What do you mean ? \ 

Gi'ORGiANA. You've knowai all along that 1 
w^asn't in love with him. 

Lady Catherine. I've known 

Georgiana. Of course you have. I've never 
pretended to be in love with him — to you. ._And 
you didn't care whether I was or not. 

Sir Theodore. Really— really— when a wonian 
accepts a man one naturally takes it for granted • 

GI':orgi.\na. There are lots of reasons (or accept- 
ing a man. One of them's being in love with him— 



(50 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

one of them. That wasn't my reason for accepting 
Mr. Lankester — and I told him so to-night. 

Lady Cx\therine. You told him so ! 

Georgiana. Yes. I've done t\iQ best thing I 
e\^r did in my life — and I suppose I shall regret 
it as long as I live. 

{She sits. Her voice suddenly breaks and she leans 
on the arm of her chair and sobs. There is a short 
silence. Sir Theodore shuffles iincomjortably c 
Lady Catherine watches Georgiana grimly : 
Tod stares fixed I y auay from Jier.) 

Lady Catherine. I am glad that you seem to 
tealize the unutterable folly of which you have been 
guilty. 

Tod [lender his breath). Oh, dry up I 

Lady Catherine. Tod — did you speak? 

Georgiana [drying her eyes — to Lady Catherine). 
Y>s, I do realize it. I've thrown away my last 
chance. 

.. Lady Catherine (sarcastically). It's just c:s well 
io make up your mind to that. After the way you 
ha\^ treated one man you can hardly expect 

Georgiana. I don't. I've tried to be honest 
and I must take the consequences. They're certain 
to be unpleasant. 

Sir Theodore (irritably). My dear Gejrgiana. I 
feel bound to say that it's a pitv \-our — cr— sense 
of honesty, as you call it, chd not de\elop itself 
before the^ — er — eleventh hour. 

Lady Catherine. A great pitv. 

Sir Theodore. It would have saved you from 
making yourself — er 

Lady Catherine. Ridiculous. 

Sir Theodore (hastily). Conspicuous was the 
word I was thinking of — conspicuous — and it would 
have saved us all Irom a great deal of annoyance 
—a great deal of annoyance. What are we to say 
to people ? 



JUST TO GET MARRIED. 67 

Lady Catherine. Exactly. 

Sir Theodore. Your Aunt Constantia and the 
Montgomerys will be here directly. What explana- 
tions are we to give to them — to everybod}^ ? 

Georgiaxa. Whatever you like. I don't care. 
Tell them I'm a fool and have done with it. 

(Lady Catherine snorts meaningly.) 

Yes. you're quite right, you won't be far out. They'll 
all side with you. of course, and set to work to make 
my life miserable. They'll all think just as vou do — 
that I ought to have taken Adam in and done for him. 
And they'll all talk just as you do — as if marriage 
was nothing more than wearing a ring on your third 
finger and sitting opposite a man at table. Between 
Vou and Aunt Constantia and the Montgomerys 'I 
shall soon be wishing myself dead. ' 

Lady Caiherixe. I am obliged to you, Georg- 
iana. I am sure your uncle is obliged to you. Your 
courtesy and your gratitude arc all we could desire 
in a girl whom we have treated as our own daughter 
— whom we onl\- wished to see happily settled in' 
life. ' " • 

Georgi.\x A. In other words, married to any man 
who could be got to take her. 

Lady C.\therixe. You are quite mistaken if you 
think you mend your case by insolence and coarse- 
ness. You have behaved towards us with a gross 
want of consideration. You ha\'e placed us in a mo?t 
painful position. 

Sir Theodore. That's perfectly true. What we 
are to say to every one I don't know — I really don't. 

Lady Catherixe (sarcastically). And it may have 
escaped your notice, of course, but we have incurred 
a good deal of expense on your account of late. Quite 
a small matter to 3'ou, no doubt, but, considering that 
we have other and very heavy calls upon us 

Georgiaxa. I wish to God you'd turned me out 
to earn my own living years ago. 



68 J LIST TO GET MARRIED. 

Lady Catherine (shocked). Georgiana ! 

Georgiana. Why didn't you ? 

Lady Catherine. Is this your gratitude for ■- 

Georgiana. No, it isn't. It's ingratitude^ — it's 
anything you Hkc. But, whatever it is, you've got 
yourself to thank for it. Why didn't you make some- 
thing of me — something, and not just a helpless in- 
<:apable. That's what I am — an incapable— thanks 
to you. What can I do — nothing, except dress 
myself and put my hair in pins at night and keep my 
^yes open for a likely husband. That's wliat I've 
been doing for years — ever since I came out — and 
you've been hawking me round for years to one man 
after another. That's been my life — being hawked 
round — till I got desperate and you got desperate 
and Adam came along. 

Sir Theodore. God bless my soul — what^ 

Lady Catherine. Let her go on, Theodore. 

Georgiana. Oh no, I'm not going on — I'm going 
away. 

Lady Catherine, "j 

Sir Theodore. [ Going awav ? 

Tod. J 

Georgiana. Yes — now, at once. I've had about 
enough cf it. This sort of thing is only the beginning. 
I. know quite well what you'll all be like when you 
get together. You and Aunt Constantia and the 
Montgomerys. I'm not going to stop here and be 
groaned over by an entire family. I couldn't stand it 
— between you you'd drive me mad. 

Lady Catherine. Don't talk rubbish. 

Georgiana. It's not rubbish though it may sound 
like it. I'm going to London by the next train. 

Sir Theodore. To London ? 

Georgiana. To Frances Melliship. She asked me 
once to live with her and stand on my own feet. 
That's what I'm going to do now, and I wish to good- 
ness I'd done it before. And I'll never cost you 
another penny that I can help. 



JUST TO GET MARRIED. 



69 



Lady Catherixi:. Georgiana, I think you are 
out of your senses. I forbid vou to do anything so 
ridiculous 

(ir.ORGiAXA. It's not a bit of good your forbidding 
me. I sliall walk to the train and get in. 

{A bell rings loudly off.) 

Tod. Aunt Con.stantia and the Montgomerys. 

Gkorgi.vxa. Then I'm off. Aunt Constantia on 
the top of Aunt Catherine would be more than flesh 
and blood could bear. You can send my things 
after me. 

Lady C.vtherixi:. I never heard ■ 

Gi-:c)RGi.\x a (snatching up coat from chair and putting 
it on) . This will do for to-night — my going-away coat. 
It's got to be paid for, so I may as well wear it. 
Where's the hat? (Pinning it\)n.) Sorry yoU'Il 
have to entertain m\' wedding part\- without me, 
but 

^ (Enter Footmax l.) 

FooT.M.vx. Lady Constantia Ferrers— Mr. and 
Mrs. Montgomery— Miss Montgomery— Miss Hilda 
Montgomery 

Georgiaxa. Oh, Lord. ... 

(Exit hurriedly r. as — ) 

(Lady Coxstaxtlv and the Moxtgomerys appear in 
doorway l.) 



Curtaix 



ACT III 

Scene. — The general waiting-room at Puckridge rail- 
way station. The usual bare, square room, a plan 
of which will he found at the end of the play. A 
fire is burning dimly. Over mantelpiece a looking- 
glass. The door at the back opens to the platform. 

(As the curtain rises the ttage is empty. Then enter 
Dobbins, an elderly railway porter, followed by 
Georgiana. Georgiana wears the same clothes 
as in the previous act, but her long cloak is splashed 
and caked with mud, and the feathers in her hat are 
out of curl and soaked ivith rain. Her whole manner 
shows extreme depression and her eyes are red with 
crying.) 

Dobbins. 'Ere you are, miss, 'ere 3J'0u are. Set 
you down and dry ycursdf. I'll make up the fire 
for you in no time. 

Georgiana. Thank you, Dobbins. (She sits at 
fire.) 

' Dobbins {poking fire). And 'ow on earth did you 
come to be out in all the rain ? Without an um- 
brella, too ? 

Georgiana. Oh — the rain came on after I'd 
started. 

Dobbins. That's better — we'll 'ave a blaze in no 
time. If I was you, miss, I'd 'ang my coat over the 
back of a chair — you'll get your death if you sit in it 
sopping wet like that. And 'ow about gettin' a fly 
to take you back ? Shall I run over to the Raven ? 

Georgiana. Oh— no, thank vou. 
70 



jrST T.) GET :\IARRIED. 71 

DoBRiNS. You're never thinking of walking back 
to the 'All. 

Georgian A (anharvasscd). Oh no — of course not. 
But — there's no hurry. I think I'll dr^^ m^/self first. 

Dobbins. Right you arc, miss— right you are. 
It 'ud never do for you to be laid up with a cold in the 
'ead to-morrow, would it ? Let me see^ — to-morrow 
is the 'appy day, isn't it, miss ? 

Gkor(;i.\xa. Er— yes. 

Dobbins. O' course. Mr. Smith was tellin' me 
^e'd reserved you a first on the 4.5. 4 

(xKORGiANA. Oh— has he ? 

Dobbins. I see Mr. Lankester come down this 
afternoon. 

Georgian A (hastily). How long is it before the 
London train, is due ? 

Dc^BBiNS. The up train ? 

(lEORGIANA. Yes. 

Dobbins. She's due in about fourteen minutes now, 
but as likely as not she'll be a bit be'ind time. . . . 
Expecting any one by 'er, miss ? 

Georgiana" No — yes. That's to say I daresay 
there'll be a parcel. 

Dobbins. Very good, miss. I'll look out for.it 
and bring it along. What sort of a parcel, miss? 

Georgiana (impatiently). Oh, I don't know^ — a , 
brown paper parcel tied with string. 

Dobbins. Very good, miss. 

Georgiana. Don't bother about the iire any' 
longer— it'll burn all right. (She gives him a tip.). . 

Dobbins. Thank'ee, miss. I'll bring it along— 
a brown paper parcel tied with string. ., 

(Exit Dobbins.) 

(Georgiana takes off hey coat, tries to brush some of 
the mud off it and then hangs it on a chair in front 
of the fire. She removes her hat, shakes and attempts 
to re-arrange the dcjnp feathers, and finally seis^ 
it in the fender to dry. Every now and then she- 



72 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

• stops to snifj and wipe her eyes. She looks at her- 
self in the glass, and tries to smooth her hair with 
her side-comb.- While she is doing so, her eye is 
caught by Adam's necklace, which she still wears. 
She takes it off slowly and reluctantly, end puts it 
ill her pocket ; same bus. with her engagement ring. 
Finally she wipes her eyes and sits in a depressed 
attitude staring at the fire. The door is suddenly 
flung open, showing Bertha in the doorway.) 

Bertha. There you are. (Calling off.) Hi, 
Dobbins ! just tell the lady in the carriage it's all 
right. 

Georgiana. Bertha ! 

Bertha (coming down — giggling). Hullo ! 

Georgiana (angrily). What do you want ? 

Bertha. You — of course. 

Georgiana. Oh, do you — ^and what do you want 
me for ? 

Bertha! To take you home. Mother sent us to 
fetch you. 
, Georgl\na. Did she ? And who's us ? 

Bertha. Me and Julia. 

Georgiana (turning her back on her). Well, you • 
and Julia can j?o home and say I'm not coming. 

Bertha (loftily). Don't be silly. (Coming up 
to her.) Anni Constantia says you deserve to be 
shaken and put to bed. T must say I rather agree 
with her. 

■ .Georgiana. You'll be shaken yourself if you 
don't clear out. 

Bertha (giggling). I say, Georgie, you do look 
a sight. What have you been doing with yourself ? 

(As Georgiana starts up angrily, enter Mrs. M.vcart- 

NEY.) 

Mrs. Macartney (crossly). Thank goodness. Be 
quick and put your things on. The carriage is wait- 
ing — we can't keep it standing in all this rain. Come 
along. ^'(Skc comes to the fire.) 



JUST TO GET MARRIED. 73 

Bertha. She says she's not coming. 

Georgiana. No, I'm not. I'm sorry you've had 
all your trouble for nothing. 

Mrs. Macartney (coldly). Please don't be foolish, 
Gcorgie. Of course you are going home with us. 
Lady Catherine insists 

Georgiaxa. Then you can tell her I refuse. 

Bertha {primly). What do you suppose people 
will say ? 

Georgiaxa. Oh, shut up ! 

Mrs. Mac.vrtxey. Georgie, of all the hopeless 
idiots I ever met you are the worst. 

Georglaxa. .\m I ? 

Mrs. Macartxey (crossing to l.c. between table and 
fire). Bertha is perfectly right. You've made quite 
enough sensation for one day — throwing Mr. Lan- 
kester over on the very night before your wedding. 
You surely don't want to make any more by quarrel- 
ling with your relations and rushing out of the house 
like a lunatic. What on earth do you imagine that 
people will think of you ? 

Georgiaxa. Everything that's odious. T can't, 
help that. 

Mrs. Macartney. Oh, nonsense, you can help it 
—at least you can help a great deal of it. 

Bertha. Aunt Constantia says that no one will 
believe for a moment that yoii threw him over — 

Mrs. Macartxey (hastily). That'll do, Bertha. 

Now come along, Georgie, put on your Good 

gracious, is this your coat ? (Takes coat.) 

Georgiaxa. I didn't bring an umbrella. (She 
sits c.) 

Mrs. Macartxey (looking at coat). So it seems ; 
but was that why you sat down in the road ? 

Georgiaxa. I didn't sit down in the road. It 
was dark and I walked into a ditch. 

Bertha (giggling). I wish I'd seen you. You 
must have looked funny. 

Mrs. Macartney (throwing coat on bench). Bertha, 



74 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

be quiet. . . . Well, vou won't be able to wear it 
any more, so the best thing we can do is to leave it 
here. There are plenty of rugs in the brougham. 

Georgian A (rising). How many times have I got 
to tell you that I'm not going back with you ? 

Mrs. Macartney (taking her arm). Oh, nonsense. 

Georgiana (shaking her off). Leave me alone, 
Juha. 

Mrs. Macartney. Georgie ! (Crosses l. by fire.) 

Bertha. Aunt Constantia said she knev/ we should 
have a lot of trouble with her. 

Georgiana. You hateful little beast. (Smacks 
Bertha's face.) 

Bertha. Oh ! 

Mrs. Macartney. Georgie ! 

Bertha. I shall tell mother. 

Georgiana. If you say another word, I'll do it 
again. 

Mrs. Macartney. Bertha, don't talk to her — go 
and wait in the carriage. (She goes io door, pushing 
Bertha out.) 

Bertha (under her breath). Cat ! (Turning as 
she opens door.) I expect Aunt Constantia was 
perfectly right and it was Adam who threw you over. 

(Exit hastily.) 

Mrs. Macartney. Georgie, I didn't know you 
could be so \acious. 

Georgiana. I'm not vicious — I'm miserable. 
(Buries her face in her hands, sitting on the bench.) 

Mrs. Macartney. Well, I'm sorry, but after all, 
it's your own fault. 

Georgiana. Oh yes. 

Mrs. Macartney" (sitting on her r.). And you 
don't imagine you're going to make things any 
better by running away and sulking in this perfectly 
childish fashion. That's the only possible way to 
describe your behaviour — it's perfectly childish. 
Upon my word, Georgie, you ought to be thoroughly 



JUST TO (;et married. 75 

well beaten. I'm not at all sure that I shouldn't like 
to beat you myself. 

Georgian A. And I'm quite sure that Aunt 
Catherine would — and Aunt Constantia. That's 
one of the reasons why I'm not coming back with you. 

Mrs. Macartney. Oh, stuff and nonsense. As 
I said just now, I'm \'cry sorry for vou. 

Georgiana. Thank you. but I shouldn't have 
guessed it if you hadn't told me. 

Mrs. Macartney. Oh well— it's difficult to have 
any patience with you. You've been such a fool. 

Georgiana (bitterly). Tell me something I don't 
know. 

Mrs. Macartney. What/ on earth induced you to 
be so rude to Lady Catherine ? 

Georgiana. She was rude to me. 

Mrs. Macartney. That's quite a different thing. 
Well, you'll have to eat humble pie and apologise ta 
her some time or another, so why not get the opera- 
tion over and have done with it at on(x^ .•' 

Georgiana. Because I won't. 

Mrs. Macartney (impatiently). I really had no 
idea you were so amazingly silly. W^hat in the world 
do vou suppose you are going to do if vou don't come 
back ? "^ ' • 

Georgiana. I'm going to London. 

Mrs. Macartney. To Miss Melliship ? 

Georgiana. Yes. She's the only person who'll 
understand— who'll think I've done right. 

Mrs. Macartney. Very likely. She has most 
extraordinary ideas. No doubt she'll welcome you 
with open arms and cook you a sausage on a smelly 
oil stove. You seem to have got over your former 
dislike to her peculiar methods of housekeeping. 

Georgiana. I haven't at all ; but I'd a hundred 
times rather be Frances than I'd be myself. She 
doesn't have to cadge round for a man to keep her. 

Mrs. Macartney. My dear, you aren't Frances 
and vou are vourself, which makes all the difference. 



76 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

She's used to pigging it in a three pair back on a 
pound a week — you're not. 

Georgian A. I could get used to it. 

Mrs. Macartney (laughing scornfully). You'd 
loathe it— simply loathe it. 

Georgian A. Do you think I don't know that ? 
But I should loathe being at home a great deal more. 
It's a choice of evils. 

Mrs. Macartney. My good child, I don't think 
it is a choice. 

Georgian A. What do you mean ? 

Mrs. Macartney. Lady Catherine doesn't ask 
you to return home— she insists upon it. And when 
she says she insists, I think she means it. She de- 
clares that your flying off like this will make a 
regular scandal. And she's right — it will. And if 
she takes that view of the case, she will get her own 
way in the end by the very simple process of stopping 
supplies. 

Georgiana. She won't — she can't 

Mrs. Macartney. You know she can and — I 
think she will. . . . And then where will you be ? 
Y'ou don't propose to throw yourself upon Miss 
Melliship's charity, do you ? 

Georgiana. I don't propose to do anything of 
the sort. 

Mrs. Macartney. Then what—? 

Georgiana. I suppose I can do like other people. 

Mrs. Macartney. Like other people? 
^ Georgiana. Well — work. 

Mrs. Macartney. My dear sweet child, I do 
really believe that you must have taken leave of 
your senses. Now what could you do in the way of 
work — what could you ? 

Georgiana (stubbornly but ^tncasily). I don't 
know yet. 

■ Mrs. Macartney. You're surely not going to 
pretend to teach other people's children things you 
don't know vourself ? 



JUST TO GET MARRIED. 77 

Georgiaxa. No, I shan't do that because I'm not 
fit for it. f'or one thing, I've forgotten how to do 
sums. (She goes and sits in chair up stage.) 

Mrs. Macartney. Then may I ask what you are 
fit for ? 

Georgiaxa. I tell you I don't know yet ; I 
liaven't thought. Please go away, Julia, and leave' 
me alone. 

Mrs. Macartxey. Certainly not. {Sits opposite 
her — back to audience.) I've no intention of lea\ing 
you alone till I've handed you over to Lady Catherine. 

Georgiaxa. I will not- 

Mrs. Macartney. Oh yes, you will. I can hear 
you will. You're coming nnmd. [I'p to Georgiaxa 
and her hand on her shoulder.) 

Georgiaxa. I'm not. 

Mrs. Macartxey. Oh, nonsense ! You've still 
got a grain or two of sense — left — somewhere. 
You know just as well as I do that all this idea of 
independence is ridiculous — for you. Our sort of 
woman can't be independent — ^we aren't brought up 
to be— 

Georgiaxa {bitterly). Xo, we're brought up to be 
married. 

Mrs. Macartney. Well, that's very much nicer/ 
{Turning a little to the audience.) 

Georgiaxa. Think so ? 

Mrs. Macartney. Because you've done one very 
silly thing in throwing over a man who would have 
made you an excellent husband, there's no need 
for 3^ou to do another very silly thing bv flying in 
the face of all your familv. {Standing now at fireplace.). 
And, as I told you, if you don't eat your humble pie 
now, you'll have to eat it presentl}' — next week or 
the week after. 

(Georgiaxa is silent but moves uneasily.) 

I know it won't be pleasant ; but that's all the- 
more reason to get it over quickly. 



78 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

Georgian A (irresolutely'). If only Aunt Con- 
stantia wasn't there. She can be so — so supremely 
odious when she likes. And she and Aunt Catherine 
will egg each other on. T know they'll simply trample 
on me — the pair of them. 

Mrs. Macartney. Well, the wisest thing you can 
do is to lie down and let them trample . . . and, 
after all, 3-ou know you thoroughly deserve it. 

Georglvna. That won't make it any more cnjo}-- 
able. 

Mrs. Macartney {hrishdy). Now be quick and 
make up your mind to it. Hopkins will be furious 
with us for keeping the horses in the rain all this time. 

Georglvna. I don't feel as if I can, Julia. [Crosses 
to r.) 

Mrs. Macartney (stopping her). Oh, stop 
shillyshallying and come along. 

Georgl\na. What did Aunt Constantia say when 
she heard about it ? 

Mrs. Macartney. I don't know. I wasn't there. 
Here 's your hat . (Picks it up from fender.) Heavens, 
what a state it's in ! How could you have been so 
insane as to trudge all those miles in this weather. 

Georgiana. If only there wasn't such a herd of 
them there — such a gang. It's so awful to think of 
meeting them all. 

Mrs. Macartney. Perhaps you won't meet them, 
all. Would \-ou like my puff ? 

Georgiana. Thank you. [Puffing her face.) 
Had an^' one else arrived before you started ? 

Mrs. Macartney. Only the FeUx Mundays. Put 
on your h:it. 

(Georgi.\na puts it on slowlv and reluctantly in front 
of the glass over the mantelpiece. One of the feather ^ 
droops right over her nose. She stands looking a^ 
herself in the glass.) 

Mrs. Macartney. That's all right. Come along. 
{She crosses.) 



JL'ST TO GET MARRIED. 79 

Georgiaxa (suddenly). It's not all right and I 
won't coinc. (Her hack to the fireplace.) 

Mrs. Macartney. What do you mean ? (Coming 
hack to her.) 

(iKORGiAXA. Do you think I'm going home like 
that — to meet them all looking as if I'd just been 
dragged through a hedge backwards ! 

Mrs. Macartney. Well, take off your hat, dear 
child. You don't want it— we're going in the 
brougham. 

Georgiaxa. You arc — I'm not. 

(She flings herself into a chair, snatches off her hat 
end throTS it across the room.) 



Mrs. Macartney. Why 

Georgiaxa. Why ? Just look at my hair — just 
look at it. And my nose is scarlet and my eyes half 
shut, and my face all pasty, and I look a wreck. 
That's what I am — a wreck. Eo you think I'm going 
to face the whole gang — like this? (Seize; a loose 
strand of damp hair and pulls it down over her nose.)- 
Why, I shouldn't have the heart to say boo to a 
goose ! 

Mrs. Mac.vrtxey. Don't be silly. As if any one 
would expect you to be looking your best after trudg- 
ing five miles in a downpour. 

Georgiaxa. I don't care what they expect — they 
won't see me. Fancy meeting those odious Mont- 
gomery girls like this — and Sylvia Munday who al- 
ways look^ as if she had stepped straight out of a 
bandbox. It would take all the pluck out of me. 
When I know I look a worm, I feel a v/orm. 

Mrs. Macartxey. You're too ridiculous for words. 

Georgiaxa, It's no use arguing, Julia. You may 
as w^ell go. If I have to come back to-morrow, I'll 
come ; but I won't meet them all feeling like a second- 
hand scarecrow. My mind's quite made up ; I'm 
going to Francos to-night. I've got my ticket and 
I've wired h?r to expect me. 



80 • JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

Mrs. Macartney. Georgie 

{Enter Dobbins carrying a bag and ritg which he 
places on the table.) 

Georgiana. You're not going to wrangle in front 
of the porter, are you ? . . . Is the up train signalled 
yet? 

Dobbins. Not yet, miss, but she's just on due. 

(Goes to door, halts and seems about to speak, then 
changes his mind and exits.) 

Mrs. Macartney. Georgie, do listen to reason. . .. 

Georgiana (pointing to luggage on table). Some one 
else will be coming in directly. This is a public 
waiting-room, you know, and the railway company 
haven't reserved it for us to squabble in. 

Mrs. Macartney [shrugs her shoulders). Oh, very 
well. (Sarcastically.) I shall tell Lady Catherine, 
that she may expect you back shortly. (Goes to door.) 

Georgiana. You can tell her what you please. 

Mrs. Macartney. Does that mean that you would 
like me to offer my apology 

Georgiana. No, it doesn't. Good-night. 

(Exit Mrs. Macartney.) 

(Georgiana sits motionless for a moment or two and 
then, as if she heard some one approaching, snatches 
up a newspaper from the table and holds it in front 
of her face, pretending to read.) 

(Enter Adam Lankester. He comes down towards 
the fire, glances at Georgiana at first without interest, 
and then suddenly stops and makes a half step so as to 
see round the paper which hides her face— starts 
and gives a smothered exclamation.) 

Georgiana {looks up surprised). Oh ! 

y\DAM. I beg your pardon — I had no idea 

(Turns towards door.) 

Georgiana (recovering herself). Oh, please don't 
let me turn you out — into the wet. 



JUST TO GET MARRIED. 8l 

Adam. Thank you — not at all. I don't mind the 
wet and my train is just due. 

Georgiana (as he opens door). Ad. . . , Mr. 
Lankester • 

Adam. What ? 

Georgiana (feeling in her pocket). Yes. . . . I'v^ 
got something — if you wait a minute — something 
here that belongs to you. 

Adam. That belongs to me ? 

Georgia-NA (without looking at him, an^d holding 
out her hand containing the ring and necklace). These 
... I may as well give them to you now. 

(Adam stands silent for a moment, then comes down^ 
takes them from her outstretched hand and slips them 
into his pocket.) 

Adam (curtly). Thanks. 

[He turns to go again, reaches door, stops ir resolutely 
and looks at her.) 

I hope I am not impertinent in asking why you aj-e 
here ? ^ 

Georgiana. Oh no ! I'm waiting for the London 
train. 

Adam. You're going to London to-night ? 

Georgiana. Yes. . . . Lve had an— unpleasant- 
ness with Aunt Catherine. 

Adam. An unpleasantness ? 

Georgiana. You wouldn't be very far out if you 
called it a row. 

Adam. Not about 

Georgiana. Oh yes, it was about you, of course. 

Adam. Fm sorry. 

Georgiana. Fve made the place too hot to hold 
me. 

Adam. You don't mean to say they've sent you 
away — turned you out ? ' ' 

Georgiana. Oh dear no — I turned myself out— 
couldn't stand 'em. . . . Fm going up to Frances 

F 



82 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

Melliship. She's the only person who'll be kind about 
it — except you. 

ApAM. I'm very sorry. 

Georgian A. So am I. (She turns Jicr head away 
suddenly and wipes her eyes.) I think I must have 
got a cold — my feet got damp — coming here. 
• Ada:m. But surely you haven't quarrelled with 
your people for good ? (He sits in the eliair at fire 
— his back to the audience.) 

V Georgian A. No, I don't suppose I have — in fact, 
Vm sure I haven't. 

Adam. I'm glad of that. 

Georgiana. I can't possibly afford to quarrel 
with them for good. Whether I like it or not, I shall 
hive to make it up and go back to them. 
Adam. You don't want to go back, then ? 
Georgiana. It's not particularly agreeable to 
have to grovel to your disappointed relatives, even 
if every one was— nice about it. 
Adam. And they won't be nice ? 

(Georgiana laMghs shortly. Adam goes to the table.) 

Damn— I beg your pardon. 

Georgiana. You needn't. That's just liow I feel. 

Adam (coming to her). If there was only anything 
that I could do 

Georgiana. There isn't — except leave off being 
kind to me. 

Adam (gently). Poor little girl ! 

Georgiana (stamping — half crying). Don't, I tell 
you. 

Adam. I'm sorry. 

Georgiana. No, it's I who ought to be sorry. I 
didn't mean to be rude, but it has been such a— 
trying day for me. 

Adam. Yes. 

Georgiana. And on the top of all I walked five 
miles to the station — in the dark. I had no um- 
brella and it simply pcured most of the way — I got 



JUST TO GET MARKlEl). 83 

wet tlirougii and all over mud. I know I'm a per- 
fect fright ; now you see what I c^n look like at my 
\'ery worst, I expect you're thanking your stars for 
your merciful escape. 

Adam (huskilv). Georgie, this is the last time I 
shall ever see you. Don't talk like that. \ 

Georgiaxa (her voice tyemblirig). You are a good 
fellow — oh, you are. ... I've quite made up my 
mind about one thing. 

Adam. What's that ? 

Georgiaxa. The next time I feel tempted to\do 
right I shall resist the temptation.: 

Adam. What do you mean ? 

Georgiaxa. Well, I've done the right thing 
to-day and look at the result. I'm miserable, you're 
miserable and Aunt Catherine's tearing her hair. 
That sort of thing's not very encouraging, is it ? 
It do?sn't exactly tempt you along the path of vir- 
tue. ... It will be better for you in the end of 
course — much better. Do you ever dread the 
future^ ? 

Adam. Yes, I do. . . . Georgie, there's some- 
thing I want to say to you. : > 

Georgiaxa. Yes ? ^ 

Adam. You won't let me be anything else — • 
but you can't help my being your friend. 

Georgiaxa (in a low voice). I don't want to help it. 

Adam. Then if I speak to you as your friend, 
you won't be offended. 

Georgiaxa. I'm sure I shan't. 

Adam. You've made me understand to-day 
what it means to be entirely dependent on other 
people. ' 

Georgiaxa. Have I ? 

Adam. I've never understood before. ... It 
was because you were dependent on other people 
that vou — engaged yourself to me ; and for the same 
reason you tell me you have got to go back to a life 
vou dishke and relatives who don't want vou. . . . 



8i JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

Georgic, what I want to tell you is — if you were a 
man and my friend I should say to you — " I have 
more than I want — let me help you a little." 

Georgiana. You mustn't say it to me. 

Adam. Not — when 

Georgiana. No, it's impossible. We're^not sup- 
posed to let a man help us — lik3 that — however 
badly we want the help, unless we pa}/ the proper 
price for it. 

Adam. Georgie 

Georgiana. Thank you, thank you ever so much 
for thinking of it. It was like you to think of it. 
But I can't. 

Adam (slowly). Then there is nothing I can do to 
make your life a little happier . . . nothing I 
can do to make you dread the future a little less. . . . 
My little girl, I'd give the whole world if there was. 

(Georgiana sits with her head bent, silent. Adam 
turns and goes slowly towards the door.) 

Georgiana (suddenly). Wait — oh, please wait a 
moment. 

Adam. Yes ? 

Georgi ^na. I want to say something to you. 

Adam. Yes. 

(As she hesitates.) 

I'm listening. 

Georgiana. It's something very difficult. 

Adam (going nearer to her — right over to her). I 
want to hear it — whatever it is. 

Georgiana. Do you mind standing a little fur- 
ther off — (motioning him behind her) — somewhere 
about there. 

Adam, Is that right ? 

Georgiana. Yes, I think so. 

Adam. Well ? 

Georgiana. No, I can't. You'd better go. 

Adam. Please. 



JUST TO GET MAR Px TED. 85 

Georgian A (hesitates, then in a luic voice). There is 
something you can do — ^to make me happier. (She 
then faces him.) 

Ada-M. There is. Whit is it ? 

Gi:oRGiAXA. You can marry me — as long as it's 
not out of pity. 



Adam. Georgie — Georgie^what are you sayin 



Georgiaxa. I'm asking to be your wife — if 
you'll have me. Oh, of course you're horrified. 
I know what you must think of me. It's awful, it's 
impossiWe, it's brazen, it's unwomanly, but you'll 
never ask me again, so I must ask vou — because I 
care. . . . 

Adam. Vou rare ? 

Georgiax.v. You can refuse me— you will refuse me 
of cours? — but I want you to know first that I have got 
to care for you. I ought to be ashamed of saying it — • 
but I'm not. You're good enough for any woman 
to love. I don't know how it was that I didn't find 
it out before — it was because I was so ashamed of 
myself, I think — and I thought what I felt for you 
was nothing but pity. ... It wasn't till you'd gone 
that I began to understand what it would be to miss 
you — always to miss you — and not to see you again — 
ever — and . . . that's all. Now you can say no. 
Don't mind hurling my feelings . . . they deserve to 
be hurt. 

Adam (goijig to her). Georgie ! 

Georgiaxa. \o, no, you mustn't. You're only 
sorry for me. You must think it over. 

Adam. I don't want to. Why in Heaven's name 
should I waste time in thinking it over. I care for 
you and you've told me you care for me. 

Georgiaxa. But I told you so before. 

Adam. This time it's the truth. 

Georgiaxa. I believe it is — I do believe it is . . . 
Do 3^ou really think you can love me now you know 
what a fearful liar I am ? 

Adam. Goose ! 



S6 JUST TO GET MARRIED. 

Georgiana. If you should change your mind — — - 

Adam. I shan't ! 

Georgiaxa. But if, by any chance, you should, 
you promise to tell me and throw me over — just as I 
did you. 

Adam. Oh certainly, I'll promise that. 

Georgiana. And you don't think it awful of me 
to have asked 3'OU ? 

Ada.ai. I think it was very brave of you. 

Georgiaxa. Oh yes, it was brave. 

(Signal bell rings off.) 

Adam. There's the train coming. What are you 
going to do ? 

Georgiaxa. Oh, I shall go to Frances all the same. 
I couldn't stand explanations. 

Adam. Then we can be married in London ? 

Georgiaxa. If you Hke. 

Adam. I do like. 

Georgiaxa. Without any fuss ? 

Adam. Without any fuss at all We'll send Lady 
Catherine a wire from Paris. 

Georgiaxa. What will they say ? 

Adam. W^ho cares ? Where's your coat ? 

Georgiana. There. 

Adam. You can't wear that — it's drenched. 
(Takes ru^ from table.) Here — this will keep you 
warm. (Wraps it round her tenderly.) 

Georgiaxa (half laugJiing and half crying). I 
wonder you're not ashamed to be seen with such 
an object. 

Adam. Do you think I only want to see my little 
girl w^hen she's rigged out in her best ? 

Georgiana. I don't believe you'd have said that 
if you were just taking me out of pity. 

Adam (putting Iiis arms round her). If I ever hear 
you say such a thing again 

(The rattle of an approaching train is heard. Enter 



.irST TO CRT :\IARRIED. . 87 

Dobbin s^//iry moi'c quickly apart. Dobbins 
looks at them curiously, obviously puzzled.) 
Dobbins (going to tabic and picking up luggage). 
Here she comes, sir. She's a bit late. 

Adam (confusedly). Late ? Oh, that doesn't mat- 
ter at all. Thanks — not at all. 
Dobbins. And your parcel, miss ? 
Georgiana. Oh, that doesn't matter either. 
Come along, Adam. 

(Adam takes' her arm, and as they go out on to the plat 
form the curtain falls.) 



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